


Girl on Fire

by ace_writergirl



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, brittana, season 4 canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_writergirl/pseuds/ace_writergirl
Summary: Santana Lopez has just moved to New York to finally realise her dreams. A canon series from Santana's POV to try and make sense of what the show is doing. Post Diva.Originally posted in conjunction with the second half season 4 of Glee (2013).
Relationships: Adam Crawford/Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry/Brody Weston, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 16
Kudos: 33





	1. Big Girls Don't Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Including excerpts of my original A/N from the original posts.
> 
> So I know that last thing I should be doing is starting something new. But I have to get this frustration about Brittana's direction in the show out somehow. This is the first in a weekly series of how Santana feels about everything. It will tie in with what happens on the show, so updates will probably be on Friday or Saturday.

I zipped my suitcase closed and stood it against the wall of the corner that I'd been designated in Rachel and Kurt's loft.

Well, I guess it was my loft too.

Surprisingly, they didn't kick up a fuss at all about me moving in. The Lima Rachel that I remember would have definitely ranted on in a four-part monologue, listing the reasons why I couldn't simply invite myself into their apartment. But she hadn't.

I think Kurt was more savvy to my desires to be in New York. And Rachel had definitely felt my reluctance to return to Louisville after the whole student film nakedness mess a few weeks ago.

My phone vibrated against my boob and I pulled it out, wincing when I saw who was calling me.

_Now or never._

" _Hola,_ Mami _,_ " I greeted cheerfully, sitting on the mattress that Kurt had set out for me.

"Santana, would you care to explain to me this confirmation letter from the University of Louisville stating that you are no longer a student there?"

I grimaced and then sighed. " _Lo siento_. I should have told you. I just… I didn't want you to be disappointed in me."

"Santana." I could hear her sigh and I bit my lip. "I could never be disappointed in you for following your dream. I am disappointed that you lied to me, though."

I swallowed. She was right. God, she'd given me what amounted to a small fortune and I'd pretty much thrown it in her face. "You're right. I'm so sorry. I was…scared, I guess."

"And what is Santana Lopez's first reaction to fear? Run away," Mami said dryly. "Are you in New York?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Where are you staying?"

"I've moved in with Rachel and Kurt."

"Are they okay with that?"

"Actually, yeah. They're totally fine with it."

"Santana, what's your plan? I support you one hundred percent, but you need a plan."

"I know. Hummelberry have the low down on what's going on here so I'm going to talk to them first and then I'll take it from there."

"Okay." She paused. "Did you speak to Brittany?"

My heart clenched and I pulled my knees up to my chest. Losing her _again_ was still a very fresh wound. A wound that would probably never heal. "Um, y-yeah. She actually gave me the courage to just bite the bullet and take this leap."

"Well, I suppose I should be grateful to her for that."

"Hmmm." I didn't know what else to say.

"I'm sorry, Santana. I'm just trying to process this whole thing. I mean, you've moved to New York and you didn't tell me. When am I going to see you?"

"I…" I sighed, feeling like absolute shit for being a bad daughter. "We're all coming back for Mr. Schue's wedding next week so I'll see you then."

"All right. I'd like it if we could get together and talk a bit."

"Absolutely. I…I love you, Mami. I really am sorry that I didn't tell you."

"Apology accepted. Be safe, _mi amor._ And keep me updated on how things go, _si_?"

"I will," I promised.

"Bye."

I dropped my phone on the mattress and flopped back against it. I grimaced as I felt the springs digging into my back.

_First order of business. Get myself a frigging bed._

"Santana?"

I looked up and saw Kurt and Rachel standing at the entrance to my bedroom. Well, bed _area_. There weren't any walls separating the rooms. A sudden thought entered my head.

_I'm going to need earplugs. They both have new squeezes and the last thing I need is to listen to either of them having sex. Especially when…_

Especially when I wouldn't be because Brittany had chosen Sam. Over me. She'd chosen Sam over me.

I'd obviously made a face at that thought because Rachel came and sat next to me.

"What happened?"

I scoffed and stared at the high ceiling, my arm resting on my forehead. "I grew a pair of _cajones_ and decided to follow my dream. Like you guys did."

I knew they were doing the Hummelberry look-at-each-other-and-read-each-other's-mind thing. I remembered being able to do that with Britt. Shaking my head subtly, I closed my eyes.

"Santana, what happened?" Kurt asked. The way in which he asked told me that he wasn't asking why I was in New York. He was asking why I wasn't my usual chipper self.

_Ha._

I sighed. "She chose Sam."

"Oh, honey." The mattress dipped and I felt Kurt take my hand. "I'm so sorry."

I shrugged. "I broke up with her. It's my fault. I was just too chicken to _actually_ admit that to myself. I just…why didn't she tell me? Why did I have to find out from Tina of all people? We're supposed to be friends. Best friends. She…she should've told me," I finished quietly.

"You still love her." It wasn't a question. And Rachel wasn't wrong. I did. So, _so_ very much.

"I could never not love Brittany. But…" I sat up abruptly. "I just fucked everything up. Again. Like I always do."

"Whoa, what happened to the Santana Lopez who walked in here an hour ago and _told_ us that she was moving in? That girl has diva written all over her. And _that's_ the girl that's going to make it in New York."

I looked at Kurt with a grateful smile.

"Santana," Rachel said hesitantly, shuffling a little closer to me. "I think that I can speak for both Kurt and myself when I say that it might be best for you if you let go of what's in Lima."

I furrowed my brow. Forget Brittany?

"I think what Rachel's trying to say is that none of our relationships worked out because we were being pulled in different directions – geographically, romantically, creatively, emotionally. Let's face reality here. We're not in high school anymore. Brittany is. And she's going to be there until at least June."

"Watch it, Porcelain," I snapped, holding up a finger. "My relationship is very different to either of yours. Brittany and I have been best friends since we were kids. We've also been together since we were fourteen. That's way longer than either of your relationships. We're not a drop in the ocean. We _are_ the fucking ocean."

Rachel sighed. "We're not underplaying your relationship with Brittany. I think it was very clear to everyone that you two have something special. Last year was a big eye opener for me. I got to see the biggest bitch in McKinley history smiling and serenading her girlfriend without a care in the world. Why do you think I asked you if we could try being friends?"

I looked down at my hands. Hobbit had a point.

"It’s just… She deserves better than him. She got a 2340 on her SATs. She can do anything, go anywhere. I mean, I always knew she could, but now she's got millions of doors open to her and I don't want Guppy Face holding her back. Like…" I trailed off.

"Like you think you did?" Kurt shook his head. "Santana, you believed in Brittany. You've _always_ believed in her. Even when the rest of us thought she was nothing but an airhead cheerleader. You made us see that she's so much more."

I shook my head to myself. What the hell? No, I did not come here to join the frigging Bleeding Hearts Society. I stood up abruptly. "Whatever. I'm over it. I'm in New York and I'll be damned if I fuck this up." The _too_ was silent in my head, but it packed a punch.

"Well, it's Saturday, so how about we hit the city streets and you get your shop on?" Kurt suggested.

"Yes!" Rachel squealed, clapping her hands together, sounding very Lima Rachel.

I straightened my jacket. "Lady Hummel, amaze me with your gay and help me decorate this place."

"Excellent." Kurt stood up. "I know exactly where to go."

* * *

A few hours and, surprisingly, not a very big dent in my savings later, we stumbled back to the loft, weighed down with bags of clothes (because, duh, it's New York. And... Kurt) and décor items.

As much as I loathed to admit it, I had fun with Hummelberry. Granted, I had only been in their company for a few hours, but it was longer than I'd managed to stand them before. By the time the loft was dark, I was actually very happy with how my little nook looked.

We'd found a gorgeous four-poster bed for virtually nothing, bought a new mattress, some sheets and throw pillows. Kurt apparently knew some burly boys that were only too happy to help carry the bed up to the loft. As always, my Bob Marley poster was hanging proudly against the wall. We'd found a vintage nightstand and matching desk. Kurt said that it would need a good sanding and revarnish, so I stepped back and let him do his thing. He was busy with that as Rachel was cooking dinner for all of us.

"Hey, babe, I'm home!" a deep voice sounded throughout the apartment.

I raised an eyebrow and squared my shoulders. Time to meet Finn 2.0. I walked through the curtain that we'd hung to close my bedroom off to the rest of the apartment and squared my shoulders. I did enjoy a good judgemental bitch out.

"Hi, Brody!" Kurt chimed and I smirked at the slight disdain concealed in his tone. Oh, I was definitely going to have some fun with Brody.

I entered the kitchen area and opened the fridge, making sure to bend _very_ slowly. Hey, if he was going to be living with me, I needed to make sure he wasn't a complete douche.

"Rachel, please tell me you have some good wine in here," I called from behind the fridge.

"Uh, um, yes, we do."

I smirked. She sounded peeved. Good. Now to see if Brody was as obvious as I hoped. I pulled out a bottle from the bottom shelf and stood up, closing the door. My eyes met a pair of blue ones staring at me. They didn't come close to the most amazing blue eyes in the world, but I cocked my head as the new boy gave me the once over. I saw the glint in his eyes and nodded to myself.

_Yup. Douchebag alert. Not surprising. Kurt has always been a pro bullshit detector._

"Um, Brody, this is Santana. She's from Lima. She just moved in." Rachel was glaring at me, but I just glanced at her coolly before glancing down at the bottle in my hands.

"Oh," he said in surprise. After a few moments, he stepped forward with his hand outstretched. "Um, it's a pleasure. Always great to meet one of Rachel and Kurt's friends."

"Hmmm," was all I said, returning the firm grip.

"Brody, could I ask your opinion on something in our bedroom?" Rachel asked quickly. The emphasis on _our_ wasn't lost on me.

"Sure."

I almost laughed out loud. While he'd been ogling my smokin' bod not a minute before, he followed Rachel like a puppy dog. Kurt sidled up to me and held out a fist. I bumped it slightly and smiled.

"While I appreciate the show you just put on, Rachel is your friend and I would advise that you tread lightly."

"Oh, please. You know I'm here to keep shit real," I protested with a grin. I grabbed the bottle opener from the counter. "As you said, Rachel _is_ my friend so it's my duty, as is it yours, to douche-proof the guys she dates. And he," I pointed with the metal contraption in the vicinity of Rachel's bedroom, "set my alarms a-ringing."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, Brody has his…moments. But he does treat Rachel well."

"Does he eye-sex every girl that walks past like he was doing to me?" I asked bluntly.

"I wouldn't know. We, uh, don't really hang out."

I tutted. "And you're berating me for sussing him out? Lady Hummel, aka kettle, meet pot. You're both black."

Kurt grinned. "I think you and I are going to enjoy living together."

"You know, I think you may just be right."

* * *

I had just stepped out of the shower and was heading back to my room, when I almost collided with another body. I gripped my towel around me tighter.

"Jesus!" I snapped. "I thought we'd left Gigantor back in Ohio!"

"Uh, sorry, Santana," Brody said with an apologetic smile.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, Barry. Just watch where you're going."

I stepped past him, walked a few feet and turned back around. As expected, his eyes shot up quickly. I smirked. "Listen up, Backstreet Boy. I always know when someone's staring at my ass. It's like my sixth sense. And hell, I don't blame you. It's banging. You'd do well to remember two things, though. One: there's a pretty awesome girl in there that for some reason thinks that you're worth her time. Staring at _my_ bodacious ass does not encourage my belief that you feel the same. So I suggest you stop."

I turned around, but his voice halted me.

"What was the other thing?"

I smiled. I did love how easy people were to manipulate. I turned back to him slowly. "Secondly, a little titbit for you. I'd sleep with Rachel before you got within a hand's reach of me. _Comprender_?"

"Uh, not really. You want to have sex with my girlfriend?"

"And people wonder why I'm a lesbian," I said instead, giving him a warning look before heading into my room.

A few minutes later, I was under my new comforter and snuggled with my phone. I was staring at a message that I'd received while I was in the shower. From Brittany.

_How's NY? Have you killed Rachel yet? Miss you. xxx B_

I wanted to tell her that I missed her and loved her and wished so much that she was with me or that I was with her. But I couldn't. I had been totally willing to take Sue's offer because I would be close to Brittany. And if I was close to Brittany, maybe she'd remember why we loved each other.

Why _we_ love each other.

Or at least why I love her.

Did she even love me anymore? The thought that she might not made my heart ache. I squeezed my eyes closed. Why was it so damn hard? Yeah, Louisville had been miserable after our break up. Even the super hot Cardinals that I was around _all the time_ didn't really mean much.

I grimaced as I remembered the look on Brittany's face when I'd introduced Elaine. Yeah, so I'd paid her to pretend to be my girlfriend, but we actually had hooked up at a party one time. It was…average.

That's what I was petrified of. Any girl that I was with would be compared to Britt. It was unavoidable. I would always love her the most. And that's why I was totally screwed. And not in the way I wanted to be. I hadn't had sex since October. With Brittany, before we'd broken up. October. Me. No sex. The last time I hadn't had sex in that long was when I was still a virgin and Brittany and I hadn't discovered our secret sweet lady kisses yet.

And _damn_. Those sweet lady kisses were sorely missed.

I took a deep breath and quickly typed out a message.

 _NY is awesome so far. We went shopping today and my room's all tricked out. Kurt is the best gay shopping buddy a girl could ask for. Don't tell him I told you that. Haven't killed Rachel yet. I think she might kill me because her boytoy was making goo goo eyes at my ass._ _Miss you more. S_

It wasn't too late so I hoped she'd reply. Also, it was Saturday night. Heck, maybe she was out with Trouty. Or maybe she was in with him…

I shook my head and blinked away the thoughts. I knew Britt and Sam had probably slept together but that didn't mean that I wanted to actually _know_ about it.

_Best friend. Best friend._

I had to repeat the words because that's what we were. And not the best friends that we were in high school. I couldn't not have Britt in my life. I was pretty sure she knew that I was still in love with her. She'd always been able to read me like a book. In fact, she'd told me once I was her favourite book. I think that was in my top five list of things Brittany has ever said. Number one was pretty obvious, even if it didn't apply anymore.

When she'd left me in the auditorium the previous afternoon, I had to push all my emotion into _Girl on Fire_. It was a song that totally captured what I was feeling. I needed to get out, do something. Be better.

_For her? Maybe…_

" _Sam and I are going to Breadstix tonight to pretend to be British."_

They went to Breadstix. On a Friday night. Their date night.

" _Like how we're not together anymore and it's okay, but it still hurts a little bit. Especially on Fridays cos that was our date night."_

I wished more than anything that I'd kissed her then. Just taken everything back and kissed her and told her that I missed her so much and that I didn't want her dating anyone else ever. No one but me.

But I couldn't. Not anymore. I was too late. She'd chosen Sam.

" _And he makes me feel really smart."_

Had I not made her feel smart? Is that why she chose him over me? Did she feel like I had treated her badly? I mean, yeah, I did before senior year. But things changed between us that summer. We went into senior year stronger than ever and she knew that I loved her and only her. Was it because I hid her for so long? Because I’d hidden who I was?

The buzzing of my phone shook me from my inner turmoil and when the screen was blurry, I realised that I was crying. I hurriedly wiped my eyes. I couldn't cry.

_You're a big girl now. And big girls don't cry._

Yeah, big girls didn’t cry. They put on a brave face even when the girl they loved was with someone else. Was _happy_ with someone else. Because that someone else makes them feel smart and special.

Which, it seems, I didn't. Well, I had, but maybe it was too little too late. My eyes flickered down to her reply.

_Send me a picture! I don't blame Rachel's boyfriend for staring at your ass. It's totally awesome. Sam's here tonight so I won't be able to talk. Sweet dreams :) B._

I barely managed to return the _Sweet dreams_ before burying my head in my pillow. I could be a big girl tomorrow. At that moment, I was a girl in love with her best friend who was about to spend the night with her boyfriend.

Sometimes big girls did cry.


	2. Underneath Your Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quinntana stole the show for me in this ep. I've always thought that they're incredibly hot. And that made this chapter all the more fun to write :)  
> I still ship Brittana, but this chapter obviously has a bit of hotel room Quinntana. No sexy times, of course. I'm not that mean.

The moment I started waking up, I wanted to go back to sleep. My head immediately started pounding and I buried my head in the amazingly comfortable pillow beneath me. The realisation that my pillow, although super comfy, wasn't anywhere near as soft and fluffy as the one my head was mushed into, made me squint one eye open to see a head of blonde hair in front of me.

And then I remembered. And smiled.

It definitely hadn't been on my to do list when I came back to Lima. Hell, I didn’t think Quinn had _ever_ been on my to do list. But…props to my nemesis. She sure as hell gave as good as she got.

I let my eye fall closed and wriggled a little closer. My inner voice let out a giggle. I was naked, in a bed, with Quinn Fabray, in a hotel room, and _snuggling_.

I felt Quinn shuffle around, but kept my eyes closed. It wasn't that I was afraid of looking at her. We'd lost any shyness around each other around two hours into celebrating the success of our fake IDs. Oh, and probably around the same time when the two-time thing became a four-time thing. Or was it five?

"You suck at pretending to be asleep."

I smiled and opened my eyes. "You'd think I wouldn't be up for at least another three hours after what you did to me."

Quinn rolled her eyes with that smug look she owned so well and lay on her back. My arm was resting under the covers across her naked stomach.

"Can't say I pegged you for a snuggler, Santana," she quipped.

I shrugged. Quinn and I were past that point of bullshitting each other. We really were two ends of the same bitch-goddess spectrum. "You didn't seem to mind my hands all over you last night."

Quinn chuckled. "Yes, well. Your hands are definitely…skilled."

"I know." Hey, I only spoke the truth. "And who knew the president of the Celibacy Club would have such…dexterity?"

"Who knew?" Quinn mused quietly.

"Don't go getting all weird on me now, Fabray," I said, pulling away slightly. "No U-Haul, no plaid conventions, no waiting for hours in line to see Melissa Etheridge. This was a one-time thing...which admittedly turned into a lot-more-times-thing. But I get it."

"It was definitely a night to remember."

"Can't help my skills. I know how to rock the ladies."

Quinn laughed, louder this time. "Nice to see your ego hasn't taken a knock."

I smirked. "Why? You've proven that I can get even the straightest of straight girls to turn Fabgay for a night."

"God, your arrogance is infallible."

"And yet you've always known this about me."

Quinn turned to look at me and I raised an eyebrow in challenge. She smiled. "That slap is still very much on the table."

"Ooh, Quinnie, don't tease me so much."

We burst into giggles and – for the life of me, don't ask me how – it escalated into a full-on naked tickle fight. But there wasn't any need to progress into the standard activity reserved for our level of nudity. I mean, sure, the sex had been pretty awesome – it was me, after all – but we both knew going into this that it wasn't going any further than the hotel room. Our friendship, albeit a little fucked up, had become very important to me. And Quinn, too.

Neither of us heard the knocking on the door until it had turned into banging.

Our heads shot up and we looked at each other, barely containing the giggles.

"You expecting someone?" I asked, grabbing one of the gazillion sheets from the bed that we'd discarded during our romps and wrapping it around myself.

Quinn pulled the comforter over her own body and leaned against the headboard, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. She grabbed another bottle of water and chugged it down.

I walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it. My eyes went a little wide at the person standing in the hallway.

"H-hey."

Brittany's blue eyes narrowed in confusion and her eyes skimmed briefly over my very obvious disguise.

"Uh, sorry, I thought this was Quinn's room."

"It is." I wasn't entirely sure how my voice came out so steady. After watching her with Trouty Mouth the whole damn night, my lonely levels had kicked up a notch. A big notch. I didn't feel guilty, though. I subtly squared my shoulders.

_I shouldn't feel guilty, anyway. I'm an adult. I'm also a young, single, woman. A hot lesbian with sex appeal to burn._

"Who is it?" Quinn called from the bed.

"Britt," I called back, meeting her eyes again. "Did you need something from Quinn?"

"Uh, we were going to have coffee this morning," Brittany murmured, looking from me to the room behind me. She couldn't see Quinn in the bed.

_Fuck it._

I stepped back as an invitation for her to come in and headed back to the bed. I lay next to Quinn and reached over her to grab a bottle of water. When I looked back to meet Brittany's eyes, I actually did feel a little guilty.

_You shouldn't._

I knew that. It didn't stop me from hating myself for being the reason that Brittany had a sad look on her face as she quickly read the situation.

Honestly, even a blind person would've been able to see that the bed that Quinn and I, visibly naked under our covers, had spent a lot of time rumpling the sheets.

"Hey, Britt. I kinda lost track of time. Sorry," Quinn apologised with her charming smile. "Let me hop in the shower and we can go."

Brittany just nodded.

"Santana, swap with me," she demanded.

I rolled my eyes, ducked under the big comforter and handed the sheet I'd been using to Quinn. She wrapped it around herself and slipped gracefully out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

"I'll be ten minutes!" she called, grabbing her bag and shutting the door behind her.

_Great. Just me and Brittany in possibly one of the awkward situations we've ever been in._

"You can sit," I eventually offered, gesturing the bed.

Brittany's eyes shot up to meet mine. I held her gaze steadily. I refused to feel guilty about doing what _she’d_ told me to do. Even though I missed her like crazy, she'd made her choice. And she hadn't chosen me. Again.

But it wasn't two years ago. I was a different person. And I wasn't about to run back into the closet just because the love of my life was happier with someone that wasn't me.

She still didn't sit.

"So…"

"So…" I mimicked, raising my eyebrows. "Did you have a good night?"

She shrugged and swallowed visibly. "Did you?"

"Yup."

It probably came out a lot more callous than I'd intended based on the flash of hurt that flickered in her blue eyes.

"I mean," I amended, licking my lips, "it was fun, you know? We had fun."

"That's good." Her voice was quiet.

And cue the awkward silence.

"When are you going back to New York?" she eventually asked.

"Sunday afternoon," I replied. My mother had demanded I stay the whole weekend.

"Oh, Rachel said she's leaving tonight."

"Yeah, she can't be away from her hound dog for too long," I replied, rolling my eyes. Brody really grated on me – and not even in the remotely wankiest of ways.

"You don't like him?" She was curious.

I shrugged. "I just get this vibe that he's…I dunno. I half expect to find him on a street corner, parading his body off like some hooker. I don't trust him."

Brittany giggled and I lifted my eyes.

"Trust Rachel to start dating someone that acts like a hooker after Finn." She pulled a face.

I grinned. "God, I can't believe that she slept with him last night," I huffed. Just before Quinn and I had ducked, I'd seen them acting all lovey-dovey and heading up to Finn's room. I had a feeling that I'd be fending calls from Lumps the Clown in the coming weeks.

Rachel had changed since high school. And in a good way. She was embracing her star quality, but not in the annoying, dwarf-like tendency she did in Glee. She had grown up. She was a woman. And she wasn't afraid to take risks and make mistakes. I liked it. I felt like we could really be friends without me wanting to staple her gaping trap shut every ten minutes.

"So what are your plans this weekend?" Brittany asked.

"As soon as you two leave, my ass and I are hiding under these covers until this afternoon _at least_. Quinn's going back tonight so I'm taking her to the airport. Then my parents' place until I go back to New York, I guess. Oh, I think Mercedes wanted to do something. She may have spoken to me last night, but fuck if I can remember." I chuckled, remembering my lingering hangover, which actually wasn't nearly as bad as I'd expected after I woke up.

"Do you think maybe we could go for ice cream or something?"

"Britt, it's February. There's still snow. Ice cream seems a little out of season, don't you think?"

She looked dejected which, of course, made me backtrack my statement immediately. "But yeah, we can go get ice cream or whatever. What about tomorrow?"

"Um, Sam and I kinda have plans all day," she replied. "He won't tell me what, though. Maybe Sunday before you leave?"

I sighed. "Yeah, sure. Just text me a place and time."

It was stupid for me to still get a pang in my chest every time Sam was put ahead of me. That's what people in relationships did. Even though Britt and I may be best friends (read: torture), her _boyfriend_ would always come first. And I knew that was how it should be. That was why I'd broken up with her in the first place. It wasn't fair to keep pushing her aside to make room for college, cheerleading, friends, parties, school…

She deserved more.

And Sam could give it to her.

I just wished I had the courage to tell her that I could give her the world if she'd let me.

But sometimes when she looked at me, like then, it felt like she knew that.

* * *

As it turned out, I'd actually made plans with Mercedes, Mike and Kurt at the reception. I didn't even remember speaking to Kurt. He had been too busy watching Blaine run around after him like a lost puppy. It was pathetic, really. I had to remember to congratulate him.

We met at Breadstix – how original; they should be really glad that my one weakness in life was those delicious sticks of dough – and it was actually quite pleasant. Until Mike brought up my friendly behaviour with a certain blonde.

"So, what's happening with you and Quinn?" he asked with a smirk.

"Watch yourself, Boy Chang," I said, holding up a breadstick threateningly. "Don't ask a question you're not ready to hear the answer to."

"Oh, well this now has me completely intrigued," Kurt said with that nauseatingly eager look that he always gets when a good gossiping's afoot.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Quinn and I slept together." I said it simply. There wasn't really any point beating around the bush. Plus, Fabgay and I had talked it over and she was cool with us spilling the deets about our night of coital bliss.

"I'm sorry, come again?" Mercedes asked, her mouth open.

I giggled. "Wanky," and promptly stuck the rest of my breadstick in her mouth. "But for the record, we both did. Several times."

"I think we're all aware of your desire for bodily contact, Santana," Kurt said dryly, handing Mercedes a napkin, "but with Quinn? Really?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it," I said honestly. "She's a total firecracker in the sack. There was one time when she-"

All three immediately pleaded with me to stop and I smirked. "I warned you."

"One we should have heeded," Kurt conceded. "We'll never learn, will we? It's like you speak and that voice just hypnotises everyone and we're powerless to tell you when to stop."

"Unless I'm about to tell you about how far Quinn's fingers-"

"Ah! Lalalala!" Mercedes squealed, putting her fingers in her ears.

I threw my head back and laughed. It really was too easy with them. Back in New York, Kurt wasn't afraid to add some bark to his bite, which was refreshing in a loft with three divas plus a horn dog. The horn dog _not_ being me.

"Okay, my turn," I said, eyeing my second favourite gay (after Ellen, of course – Ha! After Ellen…). "What's the dealio with you and Bowtie Barbie?"

"Oh, girl, I caught these two going at it in the back of a car before the wedding."

"Porcelain, you skank you!" I said, holding up a fist. "I approve."

Kurt chuckled and touched his fist to mine. Mercedes gave me a sceptical look. "I'm wondering if you being in New York with Rachel and Kurt is a good thing."

Touchy subject.

"Just because you're all LA'd up and singing for your supper doesn't mean that it was that easy for the rest of us," I snapped.

Mercedes smiled and shook her head. "I meant for Kurt and Rachel. You're a terrible influence on them."

I smiled proudly, my frustrations forgotten. "I know."

"I will say that having Santana staying with us has definitely made our home life vastly more interesting. Spontaneous sing-offs are a nightly occurrence and did you know that this girl can _cook_? Hot tamale."

"I'm going to infer that you're talking about me and not my…hot tamales."

"Wait, which hot tamales?" Mike asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"Well, look what the West Coast has done to our shy little dancer!" I teased, ruffling his now super-short hair. "Did you just make a joke about my boobs?"

"No," he deadpanned.

I grinned.

"But seriously, Cheerio. What are you doing in New York?" Mercedes asked.

I rolled my eyes. Back to the serious shit.

"I'm not setting foot in another school as a student if I can help it. Kentucky did a whopping two things for me," I said, holding up two fingers. " _Uno_ , make me realise that I am not meant to be a college student. _Dos_ , make me realise that distance doesn't really matter."

I sat back, suddenly realising what I'd just said. It was fine when it was Hummelberry or Quinn, but I wasn't in the habit of breaking my Snixx bubble for just anyone.

I hated where they all looked at me like I was a fragile bird ready to break. I directed my glare at Kurt because he'd found out after two days that sending me that look was detrimental to his health. And his precious wardrobe.

Kurt cleared his throat. "I think we need some cheesecake."

"We haven't even ordered our food," Mike argued.

"Cheesecake!" I said loudly, enough to bring our waitress over. She smiled apologetically at me.

_That's right, bitches. I owns this place._

"You're not here for weeks, but they still remember you," Kurt said in amazement.

I shrugged. They really shouldn't be surprised that I was the most notorious person at Breadstix. They should just change the name to Breadsnixx. It would make everything just simpler. I munched on a breadstick and caught the waitress' eye again. She gave me a shy smile and I arched an eyebrow.

_Okay…I can play around with this._

"Lady, move. I gotta pee."

Kurt huffed, most likely at my 'crass' language – a word he was fond of using – but slid out of the booth anyway. I sent the waitress a wink as I walked past. She blushed and I smiled. Sometimes it was just so awesome being me.

I hummed as I washed my hands and was just drying them when the door to the bathroom burst open.

"Santana?"

I smiled genuinely. "Delly! How are you doing, squirt?"

Delilah Pierce (one guess who named her) wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed tightly.

"Whoa, easy on the oxygen stealing there, kiddo." I knew Delly's eleventh birthday was approaching the coming weeks.

_Shit, time flies._

"How are you, Santana?"

I looked up and smiled nervously at Jillian, Brittany's mom. Practically my second mom. Well, not anymore.

"I'm good. I mean, I've been good," I fumbled. _What the hell?_ "You?"

"I'm doing well. We miss you, though."

I looked down at Delly still clinging to me with a smile so reminiscent of her big sister that the familiar pang echoed in my heart. As any mother could (biologically or not), Jillian picked up on it and gently tugged Delly away, guiding her into one of the stalls and pulling it closed. She folded her arms across her chest.

"How are you?" she asked again.

I sucked my lips in. "Been better. But I've made the choices in my life so now I have to deal with them."

It was probably the most profound thing I'd said about the general fuck up that my year had been.

"I'm always here for you, Santana."

I nodded and looked down. "I know. It's hard." I knew she was giving me that pity face. "Uh, I should head back out. It was really great seeing you again, Jill. Tell Delly I say bye."

I walked out before anything more could be said. The waitress from our table was walking past as I entered the restaurant area again. She looked surprised when I grabbed her arm but relaxed a little when she saw it was me.

"Get me a shot of tequila, anything. I'll show you my ID if-"

“Chill, Santana, I know you're not legal." My eyes probably bugged. She glanced around. "Wait here."

I hid behind a pillar, counting the seconds until Waitress Wonder returned with what I hoped would be my liquid courage. She did, with three shots on a tray. She must have gone to McKinley to know how I liked my party favours.

I grabbed the first shot and threw it back, wincing as the burn ran down my throat. "When did you graduate?"

"Two years ago," she replied, watching me down the second and third shot in quick succession.

"Why are you still here?"

She shrugged. "Circumstances."

I nodded in understanding. I knew all about those damn circumstances. "What's your name?"

She just smiled and walked away, three empty glasses on the tray.

_Well. Colour me curious._

* * *

Thankfully, the rest of dinner passed by without a hitch, although I was faintly aware that the Pierce clan were somewhere in the small restaurant and I couldn't help but wonder if Brittany was with them or, considering it was _date night_ , if she'd be with Trouty.

I spent Saturday chilling with Mami. Papi made sure that he was home in the afternoon so that we got to really sit down and talk.

"Santana, I told you that you need to have a plan," Mami said, not unkindly. "I don't regret giving you that money for one second, but I won't watch you flit it away just being in New York and floating."

I nodded. She was right. "I'm looking for jobs. Just something to keep me busy until I can start performing. I've been looking at some clubs that do open mics, but so many are for original artists only."

Papi took my hand. " _Mija_ , you are the most original of them all."

" _Gracias_ , but I haven't even tried songwriting since the end of junior year. I mean, yeah, I've got a few lyrics written down here and there, but-"

"That's all you need, Santana! A start! Somewhere to put your foot down and say, 'Right. I'm starting my journey right here, right now'."

I had to smile at Mami's way of thinking. It was always refreshing. I looked from one parent to the other. "Do you believe that I can do this?"

"Yes," they both said immediately. They didn't lie to me. They never had, really. Except for the standard ' _Abuela really wants to come to Christmas, but she's not feeling well_.'

"Even if I flop? Even if people laugh me out of the city and I come home with my tail between my legs?"

Mami stood up. "Who is this Santana? This is not the daughter I raised. My daughter is strong, proud and confident of who she is and what she can do. When you joined glee club, I saw a light in you that I'd never seen before. You have a passion for performing, _mija._ And the world is just dying to share that passion with you."

I smiled gratefully and stood up too so that I could hug her. "Thank you. I wouldn't even be in New York if it weren't for you."

"Oh, sweetie, you would've found your way there eventually."

* * *

I wasn't quite sure how to feel about my impending meeting with Brittany. I changed my outfit about four times, effectively going through all the outfits I'd brought with me excluding the red dress from the wedding.

My phone buzzed.

_Hi :) Don't hate me, okay? Sam surprised me with a romantic getaway and we stayed over last night. We're only going to drive back later this afternoon. I'm really sorry that I'm going to miss our ice cream date :( Have a safe flight, okay? Brit xxx_

I packed my bags in a hurry. I suddenly felt like I needed to get out of Lima. Right then.

I knew she wasn't mine. She hadn't been for a while, apparently. Maybe for even longer than I’d allowed myself to dream?

The thought made my heart constrict. I tried desperately to bring back the carefree attitude of the wedding reception and the following day with Quinn.

I should have realised that once Brittany entered my mind, it would be difficult to get rid of her with no one to distract me. Thursday, I'd had Quinn and the reception. Friday had been Kurt, Mercedes and Mike and last night had been my parents. It was just me. By myself.

I looked at my phone, exiting out of the message and checking the time. Three hours until I needed to be at the airport. I pulled out my laptop and sat on my bed. I opened up my Skype and clicked on the first name on my list. It took a while for her to connect and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief when her face filled my screen.

"Well, that didn't take long."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You lasted all of thirty-six hours before you realised how much you missed this beautiful face."

I rolled my eyes and was grateful for the genuine smile that crossed my face.

"Quinn Fabray, I think you're my guardian angel."

"Sweetie, we both know I'm no angel."

I snorted. "Well, that's definitely true. I'm sure if you feel like revisiting the one-time-that-became-five-times thing, we could introduce a little roleplay into the bedroom. You as an angel, me as a devil. I'll even bring a trident." I wiggled by eyebrows suggestively and she laughed.

"I think I'm pretty good with our night to remember. Why aren't you out with Brittany? Didn't you guys have plans?"

My face fell a little and she picked up on it straight away. Being the other half of me that she was (Britt's a different half of me…if that even makes sense), she abruptly changed topics.

"Did I tell you about the troll I had to sit next to on the way home?" she said dramatically. "As if we didn't have enough overkill of gingers at the wedding, this carrot top would just _not_ take a hint. I eventually bribed the thirteen-year-old across the aisle to pretend to be my boyfriend."

I giggled. _Nice job, Q._ "Do I need to sit this boy down and ask his intentions?"

"Suffice to say, his mother wasn't too pleased when she discovered that he was going to marry the beautiful girl three seats away. He was adamant that he didn't want to leave me."

"Jesus, Quinn. Can't take you anywhere without causing a riot."

Quinn sent me a wink and we looked at each other for a few moments.

"Just tell me," she said softly.

I sighed and looked up at my ceiling. "Sam took her on a romantic getaway for the weekend. They stayed o-over and are only driving back later."

"Oh, San, I'm sorry," Quinn said sympathetically. "If it's any consolation, she was trying so hard not to be jealous at coffee the other day."

"It's not," I mumbled. "It doesn't even matter. She chose him. She doesn't _get_ to be jealous."

Quinn didn't say anything for a while. When she finally did, I knew why Quinn Fabray was one of my closest friends. "So I was thinking of introducing Emily to the wonders of the New York nightlife. You think Rosario might be up for a visitor next weekend?"

I smiled. "I think she definitely would."

* * *

Kurt unlocked the door to the loft and we walked inside. I yawned and headed for my room, ready to pass out on my bed. Flying always did that to me, even though I could never sleep on the planes.

"Rachel, we're home!" Kurt called.

No answer. We looked at each other and I shrugged. I pulled my heels off and padded into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bowl of grapes. I plonked on the couch next to Kurt and he managed to find some old movie that we could easily fall asleep to.

Which we obviously did, because I suddenly woke up to the sound of someone retching. It was possibly one of the worst sounds in the world and always made me wanna hurl myself. Kurt was still on the couch so I stood up and headed to the bathroom.

"Rach?" I called softly.

"I'm fine!" she squeaked through the door. "Just ate something funny at the restaurant we went to tonight."

"Okay," I said, shrugging. "Night."


	3. Roots Before Branches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we all just take a moment to appreciate Santana frigging Lopez? Damn. Girl can slice and dice with her words. And how we love it. That last scene…DAMN. Emotional. Aaaand, that's where we pick up our story :)  
> Get ready for some angst and some good old Santana bitching out.

About half an hour had passed, but Rachel was still crying and I hadn't let go of her. My heart was still thumping as my head was flying with all kinds of thoughts.

_Is Brody the father?_

_It doesn't make sense for Finnocence to be the father – it's only been a week since the non-wedding._

_What is she gonna do?_

_Is she gonna keep the baby?_

_Who else knows?_

I was pretty sure that I was the only one who knew. Yeah, I snooped. I liked knowing about the people I was living with. What if I'd never found that damn stick? Would Rachel have carried the weight of this around with her until…when?

I sighed and continued running my hand through her hair as her shoulders shook. _Still_ shook. I couldn't help thinking if this was how helpless Quinn had felt back in sophomore year. I'd been a beyond shitty friend then. Honestly, I couldn't even call what I did friend-like.

Things were different with Rachel, though. I was different. I wasn't nearly as petty as I was in high school. It didn't stop my temper from spiking both at Rachel and Brody.

_How could Rachel be so careless? She preached frigging celibacy in junior year like sex was the most taboo subject in the world._

Granted, her New York makeover had obviously broadened her views on certain subjects. But as a woman, a young girl in so many ways, she _had_ to know that she should always be safe with sex. Hell, I'd defined the term promiscuous in high school, but I'd _always_ made sure that the guys I slept with were wrapped up tight. Even though I'd been on the pill, there was no way that I was risking a pregnancy. My Abuela would've killed me. Not that our relationship was so functional due to me being gay.

I shook my head. _Losing focus_. Fucking Brody. He should've taken some responsibility if he was going to bed Rachel. Especially considering he was a fucking drug dealer or whatever. Hanging around unsavoury people was dangerous for anyone that he was sleeping with. If he dealt drugs, did he take them? Shit, what if he'd given Rachel some infestation?

My thoughts were running away with me, but I knew one thing was for sure – I wasn't letting Rachel go through this alone.

"Does anyone else know?" I asked quietly.

I felt Rachel tense in my arms. She lifted her head and I leaned back slightly to look down at her. "Y-you can't s-s-say anything. Please, Santana. If you ever do anything for me, please don't tell anyone."

I sucked my lips in. I didn't agree with Rachel keeping this whole thing a secret, but she was right – it was her secret to keep and I would respect that so I nodded.

"Thank you," Rachel whispered.

"Rachel," I said slowly. "I need you to talk to me. I need to understand how you let this happen. This is _so_ unlike you. Even your newly sluttied up style couldn't have blinded you to the number one rule when sleeping with a guy that isn't your fiancé or husband. Or even committed boyfriend. Whatever."

Rachel sighed and looked down at her hands. "There was one time where we…forgot."

"Forgot?" I asked, probably a little too loudly. At least no one was home. "Fuck, Rach. You remember the words of every goddamn musical ever made but you _forget_ to tell your drug dealing horn dog to wear a fucking condom?"

"You don't think I know that?" Rachel cried, tears running down her cheeks. "This is just as much my fault as it is his."

"Debateable," I muttered.

"Santana…"

"What? The second that wax model drags his ass through that door, I'm going all Lima Heights. Yes, you were an idiot, but he should know. It's a guy's responsibility. If he's going to fuck you, then he's responsible for covering up if he doesn't want any mini-drug dealers running around."

"Just stop," Rachel snapped. "I'm tired of you badgering him and being mean."

I arched an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me right now? Rachel, where is he? Huh? Not here. In fact, he's hardly ever here unless he needs his ego stroked, which apparently you enjoy doing, regardless of how _obviously_ he's lying to you."

Rachel's opened her mouth and closed it again.

I wasn't finished, though. "You are the _last_ person in the world that I thought would fall pregnant. I pegged Lady Hummel before you. Swear to God." I got a little eye roll, but I took it. "You need to tell him."

"No, I can't." She shook her head viciously.

"Why? Because he'll leave? I think that's a given. He's the type of guy that sees any kind of accountability and runs in the opposite direction. You don't need someone like that. You have me and Kurt and we'll always be here for you."

We looked at each other for a while, before Rachel closed her eyes.

"You have to let me do this, Santana," she said.

I had to bite my tongue. "I'm not letting you ruin your life," I said quietly.

"And you think having a baby would do that?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Are you going to do what Quinn did? That worked out so well for her."

"I'm not Quinn!" Rachel snapped. "She was petrified of what her parents would do. And rightly so! They kicked her out!"

I sighed. Like I needed to be reminded that I'd let loose that little piece of information to the school. Not my proudest moment in hindsight. How in the hell had Quinn forgiven me for that? I wouldn't be that person for Rachel.

"Okay, look. Brody is numero uno on my shit list and don't think for a second that I'm going to ease up on him. If he was as attentive as he _should_ be, he would've picked up that something's been different about you ever since we got back from Lima. I haven't seen you in months and we could hardly call ourselves friends in high school, but I knew something was different."

"You…you knew?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent, Barbra. Unplanned pregnancies were weekly specials. I'm a pro at smelling out the signs. Food poisoning doesn't last a week. Finding the stick just proved my suspicions."

"So…those movies. Those baby movies – you knew?"

"I figured that by me subtly hinting, that you might cotton on to that, but you just went super defensive and that confirmed it for me."

"You could've outed me in front of Kurt and Adam, but you didn't."

I frowned and pursed my lips. "Yeah, well, I don't think it's fair for someone to divulge personal information like that before you're ready to say it yourself."

"Oh."

_Finnocence will forever be in my little black book for that fucking stunt._

"Santana, I-"

"Whatever, this isn't about me. This is about you plus whatever seed is floating around inside you. What are you going to do?" I asked again.

"I…I don't know."

"Well, whether you wanted my opinion or not, I'm giving it to you. Number one, tell the weed whacker. Two, tell your dads. Three, and I can't believe I'm _actually_ encouraging this, you need to tell Finn."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're still in love with him and should you decide to keep the drug-addled offspring residing in your uterus, he's desperately in love with you enough to take care of you and the baby, regardless of its paternity."

Rachel blinked.

"What?" I shrugged. "I may not like him, but he'll make sure that you're okay."

"I can't tell him," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because it'll break his heart."

"He'll get over it. Everyone's hooked up and slept with everyone in that damn club."

"Says the leading scorer," Rachel muttered.

I lifted a hand. "Hold up. Did Rachel Berry just _insult_ me?" I asked with a hint of a smile.

She just looked at me with raised brows. "It's not like it isn't true."

"Oh, I'm not denying it. Unfortunately, I'm well aware of my tally in that club." I shuddered a little. "Some definite what-the-fuck moments."

"Well, you know better now, right?"

"Yup. Girls are way better in bed." I winked at Rachel.

She rolled her eyes, but chuckled. "I wonder what it's like inside your head."

I froze and swallowed, self-consciousness running through me. It wasn't something I was comfortable with. At all. "Not as spectacular as you might think, Rachel. You're savvy enough to know that my snark is a cover. We all have feelings that we're trying to hide, secrets that we want to keep."

"Oh, honey. It's okay. We all know you're gay," Rachel said with a slightly teasing tone, patting my knee.

"Don't you dare patronise me, Berry," I retorted with a smile. "I found your diary."

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "No, Santana. Please. God, you can't say anything to anyone about what you read in there. _Please_. It's not like I mean for any of it to come true. I just…Please?"

I grinned. "Well, I didn't actually read anything, but now that I know how juicy it must be, I may have to reconsider that."

"Oh, crap," Rachel muttered, rubbing the heel of her hand against her eye.

I laughed and my friend just smiled, shaking her head at me.

"What about Kurt?" she eventually asked.

"What about him?" I asked. "Do you want me to tell him? He's pretty clued up. I don't think it'll be too long before he picks up on something. Also, he's your best friend. Maybe he's been a little blindsided by Doctor Who, but he'll pick up on it soon enough." I sighed. "And I think it would be better coming from you than me."

"You haven't exactly earned yourself any brownie points by dropping the Blaine bomb in front of Adam."

"Oh, please," I scoffed. "I did both of them a favour. Leading someone on is not okay in my books."

"What are you talking about? You did it for years!"

I frowned. "Yeah, when I was still petrified of accepting who I was. I just…when I realised how much I was hurting…her, I sucked it up." I squared my shoulders. "And look where it got me."

"But…didn't you and Brittany get together after that?"

I closed my eyes and sighed. "No. She chose Artie over me and only dumped him when he called her stupid. We officially got together at the start of senior year."

"Oh, wow. I didn't…"

"No one did. That's how I wanted it."

"But you were both completely in love with each other."

I stood up abruptly. I didn't need a reminder of how in love we _used_ to be. "Do you want some tea?"

Rachel opened her mouth, but wisely shut it before nodding meekly. I headed into the kitchen and my phone chimed from my pocket. I had a feeling it was Brittany, and after what Rachel had just said, I didn't really feel up to pretending with her. As the kettle was boiling on the stove, the unopened message on the screen was taunting me. I huffed to myself and grabbed my phone.

 _We just performed_ Footloose _. Wish you could've been here. You would've killed it. xxx_

God, why did she have to be so fucking perfect? It was impossible for me to forget how crazy in love with her I was. I just had to remind myself of the words that broke my heart…again.

" _I'm not breaking up with Sam."_

" _I can't break up with Artie."_

I dropped my phone on the counter and looked to the stove, angrily blinking away the tears that had gathered. I wouldn't let her affect me like this anymore. I couldn't. She wanted me to come to New York and find a fucking girlfriend and follow my dreams. She obviously didn't know me as well as she thought she did. She'd always been the one person to see through every word I ever uttered. She should have known that I wouldn't – _couldn't_ – be with anyone but her. Quinn didn't count – that was just sex.

How could she expect me to laugh and be happy for an extended period of time with someone that wasn't her? How could she suggest that I go and find a girlfriend when she _knew_ that I was still in love with my best friend? Did she think that little of me and my feelings? Of how much I actually cared about her?

A rogue image entered my head and I had to grip the counter tightly to stop myself from collapsing at how just the _thought_ crippled me.

What if Brittany fell pregnant? With Sam's baby? She wasn't that careless – I knew that she'd always make sure to use protection. Well, I would _hope_ so. But…what if there was also a time when she forgot? And she…

The kettle whistled and I quickly pulled it off the plate, turning to lean with my back against the counter. Before I knew what was happening, my knees were giving out and I was sliding down to the floor. I tucked my head into my thighs and cried quietly. I'd had lots of practice with that over the years.

What if there was no hope? What if I'd lost Brittany forever? I didn't want to be her best friend. Well, I didn't want to _only_ be her best friend. I wanted her in every way I'd always wanted her. I hated that her rejection hadn't diminished how much I still ached for her.

Would it ever go away?

Would I ever have the chance to kiss her again? Not a friendly peck, a real, passion-fuelled, I-wanna-rip-your-clothes-off-because-I-want-you-so-much up-against-the-wall kinda kiss. The kind we used to have all the time.

My phone chimed again, but I couldn't muster up the energy to reach for it.

"Santana?"

_Crap._

I hurriedly wiped my eyes.

"Stop it." Rachel was kneeling beside me, holding my wrists. "You don't have to pretend to be this strong person who doesn't hurt. You've seen me break down. It's okay for you to do the same."

I just looked at her and burst into a new wave of tears. I had no idea why I suddenly felt like _Rachel_ , of all people, could understand this pain. But I knew that she could. I remembered Regionals in junior year and how her song had struck a chord in me. How everything she was singing, I felt about Brittany. It was impossible to deny. I'd grown tired of denying.

"Two years ago today was the first time I told her that I loved her," I whispered. "And she rejected me."

"Oh, Santana," Rachel murmured, cradling my head into her crook of her neck. "I may not know the intricacies of your relationship with Brittany, but I do know that she still loves you."

"How do you know that? I don't even know that. If she loves me, why doesn't she want to be with me?" I sobbed.

Rachel took a shaky breath. "Because she wants you to follow your dreams. Because she knows that if she broke up with Sam to be with you, that you wouldn't have come to New York."

I knew she was right. But it didn't make it hurt any less.

"Finn did the same thing to me," Rachel murmured.

I pulled away and frowned through my tears. "When?"

She swallowed hard and I suddenly realised that Rachel knew _exactly_ what I was going through. "The day I left for New York, we were supposed to be going to get married, but Finn took me to the station and told me th-that I was going to New York. W-without him and that he was going to join the army. The day that was supposed to be the happiest of my life turned into one o-of the most heart-breaking."

We were both crying freely. In what parallel universe would I have ever imagined sitting on a kitchen floor in New York, sobbing with Rachel Berry over our mutual broken hearts?

"God, that's why you were so sad at the station. I thought…I thought you knew, that you guys had planned it."

Rachel shook her head vigorously. "I was so ready to drop e-everything for him, and he broke my heart."

I wiped my eyes and leaned against the cupboards. "How did the two biggest divas at McKinley end up with the worst love lives?"

"Oh, God, you're so right," Rachel said with a humourless laugh.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, only our sniffles heard sporadically.

"Screw this," Rachel suddenly said, sitting up. "We are two young, independent, beautiful, single girls in New York City. We should _not_ be wallowing in our self-pity."

I arched an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? And what should we be doing instead?"

"Getting drunk," Rachel declared.

"Um…while I'm in total agreement, there's a little problem."

"What? I know you have a fake ID. You can get us whatever we need."

"And should I get some non-alcoholic beer for you?" Did Rachel even realise what she was saying?

"Oh." There was the light bulb.

"Look, how about the next best comfort food?"

"Ice cream?"

I smiled and stood up, holding out a hand for Rachel.

"You choose the movies – I won't even judge – and I'll be back in a few minutes."

Rachel nodded and headed into the living room. I took a deep breath and wiped away any remaining tears on my face. My phone pinged again and I hesitantly picked it up, my breaths quickening at who the messages could be from. The latest was from Quinn.

_Still on for next weekend? :)_

I smiled and typed out a reply. One thing I definitely needed was a night out with Quinn. After the wedding, I was refreshingly relieved to find that the girl liked to party. College had really loosened her up.

_Hell yes. Rosario misses Emily ;)_

As expected, the other message was from Britt. My thumb hovered over the screen, turmoil raging through me. Was it worth the guaranteed heartache? I knew that anything she said would affect me. The best thing would be to just get it over with.

_Are you mad at me?_

Yes! Yes! Goddammit, I was furious with her. She _knew_ how much I loved her, yet she threw it back in my face and made me feel like she didn't care about me. She brought back all the insecurities of a sixteen-year-old closeted lesbian who was desperately in love with her best friend, who didn't love her enough to be with her.

I did need to send something back or she'd probably call and there was no way I was dealing with that. Ignoring a call from Britt was a bad idea. She hated it. It took me five minutes to formulate a text, after deleting several drafts.

_Britt, today's a hard day for me. And talking to you just makes it worse. I'm sorry._

I took a deep breath before hitting send. I walked into my room and grabbed my big winter jacket that Kurt had scored for me and purposefully left my phone on my bed. My purse was still by the door from when I'd come in from my afternoon excursion.

"Any particular flavour?" I asked, my hand on the door.

"Chocolate."

"Okay." I paused, suddenly remembering a somewhat vital detail. "Um…do you know the closet vegan place? I don't know if the stores close by have vegan ice cream."

Rachel stopped what she was doing and stared at me. I glanced down, thinking I had something on my clothes.

"What?"

Rachel crossed the room and flung her arms around my neck. Surprised, I just hugged her back.

"That was the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," Rachel said, her voice muffled.

"Wow, I must be losing my touch."

"Shut up. Just admit that being nice isn't that bad."

"Oh, it's quite painful," I said with a straight face. I chuckled when Rachel punched me lightly. "For reals, though. Vegan chocolate ice cream?" I pulled a face. "Where can get some of that god-awful shit?"

She sighed. "Well, I can appreciate it while it lasted. There's a place five blocks up towards NYADA. Do you want me to come with you?"

I shook my head. "I'm a hot lesbian. No one would dare mess with me. I exude badassery."

Rachel chuckled and released me. "Thank you. I've got a movie choice that I think you'll appreciate."

"Sounds good." My phone chimed from my room, but I set my jaw and pulled the door open, disappearing into the chilly hallway.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled the door open again. "Holy fuckballs, it's freezing out there. I felt like my tits were going to fall off."

"You know," Rachel mused from the kitchen, "I could say something derogatory and mean about the fact that you had plastic surgery at sixteen, but I won't because I'm a nice person."

I shrugged out of my jacket and arched an eyebrow. "Whatever blows your skirt up, Berry. For that comment, I will withhold your tastes-like-shit vegan crap cream." I burst out laughing at Rachel's attempt to pout. She just looked constipated. "Your acting chops need some work, Barbra." I went into my room and tossed my coat onto my bed. My phone caught my eye and the blinking light drew me in. Would she even remember what today was? Would it matter if she did? Would it matter if she didn't?

It would certainly tell me that I didn't mean as much to her if she didn't. I unlocked my phone.

_I'm your best friend. I'm supposed to be there for you when you're hurting. Please don't shut me out._

I frowned. So she didn't remember. I had to sit down on my bed before my legs gave out. Tears ran down my cheeks. She didn't remember.

She didn't remember one of the most important moments in my life.

She didn't care that she'd rejected me.

She didn't care that I was still in love with her.

That familiar feeling of hurt turning into rage overwhelmed me and I picked up my phone, typing furiously.

_My best friend should KNOW why I'm hurting considering she's the reason for it. If you don't know what today is then I guess I've been in love with a fantasy for three years, with someone that I thought loved me back. I'm turning off my phone. Please don't reply to me because I don't want to talk to you._

I pressed send before I could stop myself and my eyes widened.

"Shit," I mumbled. What had I just done?

I'd let my rage overtake me. Again. I'd lashed out because I was hurting. Again. When would I learn? My hands shaking, I shut my phone off and dropped it on the bed. I stared at it until I heard Rachel call my name.

"What happened?" she asked curiously when I eventually sat down on the couch.

"Uh, I did my standard Santana lash out move," I mumbled.

"Oh, no," Rachel murmured, handing me a pint of ice cream.

I took and shovelled a spoon of chocolate ice cream – _real_ chocolate ice cream – into my mouth and almost choked on the very evident aftertaste of alcohol.

"Jesus, Berry, did you empty half a vodka bottle in here?"

Rachel sighed. "So judgemental. You're mean to mix it around. Obviously most of it is on the top."

I did as she suggested and could see the clear liquid mixing into the ice cream. After a bit of swirling, I took another tentative spoon and it was pretty damn awesome.

"Berry, you could be a bartender. This is genius."

"Well, thank you, Santana. And a perfect note to introduce the next movie."

I looked at the opening credits. "Nice. I fucking love _Coyote Ugly_."


	4. She

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm embellishing on Santana's job a little here…if future episodes prove my ideas wrong, then I'll deal with it.  
> A slight variation with the structure of this chapter – first, I start during the episode as opposed to after, and the title song is dispersed between breaks.

I gripped my suitcase tightly as it hit a patch of ice on the sidewalk and slid away from me a little. I swallowed the lump in my throat that had lodged itself there as soon as Hummelberry had told me to move out. How could they not see it? I was just trying to protect Rachel. There was something _very_ fishy about Donkey Face and I was only trying to save my friend from almost certain heartache.

_Ugh. Why is it that the women in my life are so fucking dependant on men to validate them?_

Well, thankfully Quinn seemed to have shaken that irritating habit. She was living life up at Yale as a single, empowered woman. I was proud of her.

But Rachel… And Britt…

Berry just refused to see all the damn evidence that was flying around in her fucking face! Brody Barbie was _not_ a good guy. Even if he wasn't a drug dealer, he was up to something and I wasn't about to let my _family_ – no matter what Hummelberry might think of me – be treated like dog shit because they're still too naïve to see what people are really like. I'd just have to find another way to prove to Rachel that Plastic Man was seriously bad news.

Why didn't they believe me? One thing that no one could deny was that I may be a bitch, but I could read people very well. I was right about Brody. But Rachel wouldn't believe me until I had some sort of proof. Even Kurt had a stab at me. He didn't even _like_ Brody. He'd even said that he believed me about him being a drug dealer. What the fuck changed? Was it because I shook my glorious behind at their precious NYADA? Were they so insecure that a performance from me shook them from whatever comfort zone they'd shoved themselves into?

My head was hurting. I headed back to _Coyote Ugly_. I may as well approach my boss about the open apartment over the bar. She'd mentioned that it was vacant, but having thought I'd had a place to stay, I hadn't taken up the offer.

"Hey, Jack," I called, walking into the storeroom, dragging my suitcase behind me.

Jack gave me a look with one arched eyebrow and her eyes flickered to the suitcase. "Change of heart, Snixx?"

I'd given them my alter ego as my stage name, or whatever. Hell, I ain't no Jersey.

"Um, change of plans, actually" I muttered.

"In half an hour?" Jack chuckled.

I shrugged. "The apartment still open?"

"Yeah." She reached around her belt and pulled out a set of keys. "You gotta wiggle the lock to the left a bit before it opens." She unclipped a rusty key from her big bunch and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I said.

"You okay?"

"Phenomenal," I said, automatically resorting to my defensive bitch stance. "Bitches won't realise what they have until they've lost it."

Jack chuckled. "Go and get settled then you can come down and help me stock the bar."

It wasn't a request and I'd learnt in about five minutes that Jack didn't ask. She said and you did.

I climbed the steps from the storeroom that led up the side of the building to the small apartment above. Fuck, I had absolutely nothing other than my clothes. And they'd only been packed because I'd gone to do laundry. I sighed and managed to get the lock open. I wrinkled my nose at the musty smell. The place probably hadn't had any fresh air in months.

_Fuck it. You have a job and a roof over your head._

I hated that the annoying voice in my head had started sounding an awful lot like Quinn. Go fucking figure.

I spent half an hour acquainting myself with the small space and trying to get a semblance of homeliness. There was a mattress, but it was seriously suspicious. There was no way in hell that I was going to put my head on that thing without it being fumigated, decontaminated and dry cleaned. I shuddered just thinking about what could be lurking underneath the material.

Opening the fridge, I almost chunked at the seriously old milk and… _something_.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I gagged, shutting the door quickly again.

I grabbed my phone and keys and headed back down to the storeroom. Jack was a pretty cool chick. She was in her late thirties and was scarily like the character that Maria Bello portrayed in the movie. She mentioned a few things as the two of us worked, procedures and such. I was no stranger to hard work – Abuela and Mami had been hard taskmasters from an early age. Jack seemed impressed that I could lug boxes of beer around in heels.

"Years of dancing and cheerleading. Plus, my ex is a dancer so I had to get used to it."

"Dancing? Anything professional?"

"Um, well, she's taken dance classes since she could pretty much walk so-"

"You, Snixx, not your ex," Jack chuckled. "I don't give a shit about your personal life. Just don't let it affect your work."

"Yeah, that's something you definitely won't have to worry about," I muttered. "In answer to your question, no professional training. Just cheerleading and show choir. But I'm Latina so, you know, natural rhythm and all that shit."

Jack chuckled as the deposited the last box the bar. "I think you and I are gonna get along great, Snixx."

"I believe I did mention that in my interview."

"Not so much an interview as you showing up demanding a job," Jack corrected, twirling a knife expertly and opening the boxes.

I shrugged. "Says you."

See? I'm a great judge of character. I knew right away that I could be straight (not _that_ kind) with Jack because she was like me – she called a spade a fucking spade. She didn't beat around the bush (wanky) and wasn't afraid to go after what she wanted.

 _Ha! Maybe you should re-evaluate that one, Snixx_.

I shook off Quinn's irritating-as-fuck voice. Thinking about Brittany was pointless. She was clearly happy in the bubble of Trouty's lips. I hadn't heard anything from her since I'd asked her not to send me any messages. That was last week, though. And I _hated_ that I missed her.

_You're in New York. You're a single, smokin' hot lesbian in a city of ample opportunity. Embrace what you have and make the most of it._

Okay, props to my Quinnscience for that little pick-me-upper.

"Shot?"

I nodded and pulled out two six packs of beer, ripping them open and stacking them in the fridge. I'd received a tour of the bar earlier.

"Sup, Jack."

I glanced up and appreciated the hot piece of ass that had just walked in. She was seriously hot. Not Britt hot, but you know…

"Who's this?" the new arrival asked, hopping up onto the bar.

"Santana, aka, Snixx, meet Kelly."

"Pleasure," she said with a smirk.

"Same," I replied, stacking another eight beers.

"Hit up the jukebox before you come around, Kelly," Jack ordered, setting a shot in front of me. She held up her own and winked. "Welcome to the fold. Don't fuck up my bar."

I chuckled and clinked the shot glass before downing it. That was _damn_ good tequila. "Shit, that's good. That's not made here."

Jack arched an eyebrow.

"Nothing available in stores here is that smooth unless you're willing to mortgage your house to buy it."

"Sharp," Jack commented. "I got it in Mexico. I only keep it for special occasions."

"Oh, my, how super special I feel."

"You should," Kelly replied from the jukebox. "I've been here two years and I only got my first shot on my birthday three months ago."

"Happy belated," I said with a smirk.

"Cheeky."

"Thank you."

"Alright, ladies. Enough with the flirting. Save it for tonight. Two for one special on tequila. Not my tequila, naturally. Get ready for some seriously drunk assholes grabbing at you."

I rolled my eyes. "And here I thought New York would be different than high school."

"Holy shit, Jack, where did you pick this one up?"

"She did the picking up."

* * *

_She  
May be the face I can't forget  
A trace of pleasure or regret  
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay  
She may be the song that summer sings  
May be the chill that autumn brings  
May be a hundred different things  
Within the measure of a day._

* * *

That first night was…intense. I got hit on so many times I felt like a frigging celebrity. And I hated that I felt so guilty about enjoying the attention. Kelly was an awesome bar partner and I picked up tricks from her really quickly. We fell into an efficient rhythm around each other very quickly. I found out that she can sure as hell hold her alcohol. I lost count of how many tequila shots she took in the time I'd done about five.

At about two am, I was able to take a quick break which was perfect because I was _dying_ to pee. I pushed my way through the crowds and headed for the bathroom. Once I was done, I walked out, but a familiar voice stopped me.

"No worries, baby, you know I'll be there. Yeah, Tomorrow at eight. Same place as always, honey. I can't wait either."

I glared at Brody. Plastic Man sighed and stuck his phone into his jacket pocket. I noticed that he looked pretty damn dressed up for a cater waiter. And no way was Berry up at two am. I'd heard the fucking lectures about giving her voice eight hours to rest every night. I remembered telling her that she wouldn't need to sleep so much just to rest her voice if she shut up a little more when she was awake. I'd managed to score the silent treatment for two blissful hours after that. Even I was impressed with myself.

I knew who Brody was calling. His pager had proven very telling. But I knew Rachel. It wasn't enough proof. She was an all or nothing kinda girl. So I needed to get all…or everything. Whatever.

Brody had his back turned to me and was talking to two other guys in similar suits.

 _Birds of a feather, huh? This should be cake._ _Now, boys and girls, don't try this at home._

One of the perks of a crowded bar was that people pressed against each other all the time and no one really paid attention. Within five seconds, I'd swiped Brody's phone from his pocket and deposited it stealthily into my other boob pocket, aka between my bra and top.

"Impressive," Kelly chuckled as I jumped over the bar, earning several cat calls as I flashed a bit of cheek. What? The skirt was short, okay?

"Aw, Kelly, that's sweet, but you're not really my type," I purred, opening six beers and putting them on the counter for a young businessman I'd been serving all night. Something about a promotion.

"I meant your swipe," Kelly replied, blowing a kiss at a girl that she'd just served. "Whatever you do, don't let Jack see you do shit like that."

"He's an asshole who's fucking around with my friend." I patted my boob. "And now I have means to prove that to her."

"Snixx doesn't mess around," Kelly chuckled, tossing a brandy shot back bought for her by one of the many desperate hovering around the bar.

"Not when it comes to my family," I muttered, sending a flirtatious smile to the next group of girls who were all but falling over the bar in their intoxicated states.

If there was one thing that I was good at besides singing, dancing, being hot-as-hell sexy, fucking relationships up and caring too much, it was fake flirting my way out of anything.

* * *

_May be the beauty or the beast  
May be the famine or the feast  
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell  
She may be the mirror of my dreams  
A smile reflected in a stream  
She may not be what she may seem  
Inside her shell_

* * *

I was too tired to even contemplate anything but sleep. Just after five, I flopped on top of the comforter and buried my face in the pillow.

_Ugh, essence of My Little Pony or whatever the fuck Lady Hummel wears._

I sucked it up. I was exhausted so all I managed to do before passing out was plug my phone in to charge, ignoring the flashing light and falling onto Rachel's comforter (she wouldn't miss it – she had a waxy human blanket).

_Ugh, so tired that my insults suck._

I was asleep in what felt like seconds.

* * *

I woke up that afternoon. My first thought was, _I need a fucking shower_. After a quick inspection, I figured that it was somewhat safe to have a shower in the grimy bathroom.

_If Mami could see this, she'd have a fucking heart attack!_

I squealed as the icy water hit my naked skin. And it didn't get much warmer. I got out after the quickest shower in history with my teeth chattering.

"F-f-fucking old-d-d p-piece of sh-shit," I muttered, my lips shaking from the cold and pulled on sweats and about five sweaters. Feelings considerably warmer, I went hunting around the apartment. The heat didn't work and I was too fearful for my life to attempt a guess at what was in the fridge.

"Coffee," I decided.

I actually often spoke to myself out loud, especially alone. I maintained that I was easily the smartest person I knew, so why wouldn't I want to have a conversation with myself every now and then? Even if it was rhetoric. Britt had found it adorable. I sighed, grabbed my purse and head outside for some sustenance.

_Yessss, Starbucks. Come to Mama._

I walked inside and had a fleeting thought of moving in above a Starbucks somewhere. Imagine waking up to all the insanely awesome smells?! Plus, super awesome coffee a few steps away and warmth. That was imperative. And a no-brainer. It was New York! And March. Aka, fucking cold. I ordered myself a latte and a fucking monster muffin – _wanky_ – and headed back to my apartment to have some breakfast. Lunch? Brunch? Afternoon tea?

"Santana?"

I froze mid-sip and turned around at the irritatingly familiar voice that called my name.

"What in the fuck are you doing here?" I asked.

Finn Hudson just gave me stupid I'm-pleased-as-punch-but-actually-stupid-as-fuck grin. "I came to…check out the colleges."

" _Here_?" I asked incredulously. "Are you a glutton for punishment? Don't answer that," I continued, holding up the hand that had my muffin. "Did Rachel call you?"

"Uh, no. I haven't spoken to Rachel since the wedding."

"No surprise there," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Why?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Um, what happened to emulating Mr. Schue in every possible way?"

"Yeah, well, he wants nothing to do with me."

I snorted. "Duh. You macked on his wife, dumbass. What did you expect?"

"I don't why I did it, okay! It was a moment thing and-"

"Hold up. A _moment_ thing? In what deluded reality do you live in where you think that our favourite ginger _uno_ divorcee actually _wanted_ your puckering smooches anywhere near her? Do you honestly have that high an opinion of yourself?"

"Santana-"

"Newsflash, Lumps, you were honestly the worst guy I have had the misfortune of opening my legs to. And that's saying something, as we both know. Is your head so far up your own ass that you think that you are God's gift to women? Rachel somehow seems to still have an inexplicable soft spot for you and you think that entitles you to walk around thinking that your shit smells like fucking Dior perfume."

"Santana, I don't even know what you're talking about anymore." He sighed.

"And I'm not surprised," I chirped and sipped my coffee which was rapidly getting cold. I pulled a face. "Finnocence, get your credit card out. You're buying me breakfast."

"Breakfast? But it's like three in the afternoon."

I stared at him.

"Okay," he mumbled. "Wait, why am I buying you breakfast? Or whatever."

I smirked. "Because I know you're just _dying_ to get the scoop on Brody."

The look on Finn's face made my inner bitch – screw that, my bitch – very happy.

* * *

_She who always seems so happy in a crowd  
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud  
No one's allowed to see them when they cry  
She may be the love that cannot hope to last  
May come to me from shadows of the past  
That I'll remember till the day I die._

* * *

"Yo, Snixx, where you headed?"

"Got a hot date," I said with a wink to Kelly. She was having a smoke before _Coyote Ugly_ opened at seven.

I pulled my blue jacket snugly around me in the nippy night air.

"Who's the lucky girl?" Kelly asked, exhaling.

I chuckled. "Unfortunately, I'm meeting my ex-roommate's ex-boyfriend."

"Sounds like some disturbed teen horror story," Kelly remarked, pulling a face.

"Tell me about it."

"So why are you going? Come and spend some quality time behind the bar with me."

I arched an eyebrow. Kelly was at least in her mid-twenties. Hell, I knew I could pass for older than I was, but I _was_ still only eighteen.

"Sounds…tempting, Kel. Maybe later."

"Maybe you're not as gay as you think you are," Kelly said nonchalantly, stamping out her cigarette.

I didn't know what came over me, but in the next second, Kelly was pressed against the wall she'd been leaning next to. My hands were next to her head and I was glaring straight into her eyes. My front was right up against hers.

"Don't make judgements on me," I whispered in a low voice that Britt often told me made her toes tingle.

_Stop thinking about her!_

"You don't know me," I said evenly, keeping my tone husky, my eyes boring into hers.

"I'd like to," Kelly replied in an equally low voice, not breaking eye contact. Her hands came to rest on my hips.

"You shouldn't," I replied shortly, pushing myself away. "I'm not interested."

Kelly arched her eyebrows and I held her gaze for a moment. I _was_ attracted to her – she was seriously gorgeous and sexy – but…I couldn't. Even thinking about wanting to kiss her made me feel inexplicably guilty.

"You left someone in Snoresville," Kelly said knowingly, her hands not moving from my hips.

"Uh, not quite," I mumbled, dropping my eyes only to get a _very_ enticing view of Kelly's boobs.

"I'm not blind. And I'm not stupid," Kelly said, quickly spinning us around so that _I_ was the one with my back against the wall.

The grunt that I let out obviously pleased Kelly because she lowered her lips to my neck and placed a surprisingly soft kiss against my skin. I gasped involuntarily as my pulse started hammering.

_This is…_

_So good._

_Wrong._

_You're single._

_You still love her._

_And she doesn't give a shit about you._

Goddamn psychic Mexican third eye. I turned my head and brushed my lips against Kelly's cheek. She pulled back, obviously not expecting the move from me.

"I have to go," I said softly.

We stared at each other for a while, the attraction simply building before Kelly released her hold on my hips and stepped to one side. I didn't say anything, just shouldered my purse that had dropped down my arm and walked away purposefully.

As I walked the relatively short distance to the hotel, I had half my brain screaming at me and the other half cheering for me. I hadn't felt so confused since before I'd admitted my feelings to Britt for the first time. That memory only reminded me why I wasn't speaking to Brittany – she'd forgotten. I'd never forgotten the little things in our relationship and she'd loved that I always had little celebrations of our first kiss, our first time, our _real_ first time; little anniversaries of all the things that made us _us_.

I sniffed and hurriedly wiped away a tear.

_Enough of this, Lopez. Just get Brody's sorry ass served pm a platter so that you can go home with a bottle of tequila_

Courtesy of Rosario. I did love that potential Penelope relation alter ego of mine.

"Santana!" Finn called.

I rolled my eyes. Lumps had the tact of an orange Tic Tac.

"Hey, Asszilla, try not to make yourself so fucking obvious," I hissed, hitting him upside the head.

"Ow!" he whined.

 _Seriously, Rachel?_ _This?_

That was all that went through my head.

"Listen up, Frankenteen. The purpose of tonight's mission is to remind Brody that he can't mess with Rachel the way that he has. No disgustingly overbearing confessions of love, okay?"

Finn's face went dark. "He's messing around with other women while he's with her, Santana. That's not okay."

I sighed. "Agreed. However, that's Rachel's decision to make. We're just giving Donkey Face a little…encouragement to come clean."

"I'll encourage him all right," Finn mumbled.

"Hey!" I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "I'm trusting you on this, okay? Don't fuck it up."

"Fine," he grumbled.

I pulled Brody's phone out from my purse and read the text once more to get the right room. Finn followed closely behind me, but I put one finger on his chest once we reached the door, my eyes telling him to stay put. I slid the key card that had given me way more trouble than it should've – goddamn gay concierge (weakness = shoes) – and stepped inside the dark room at seven-thirty exactly.

"Took you long enough," a woman's voice purred, coming across to me.

"Sorry, cougars aren't really my thing," I said as I flicked the lights on.

The older woman – as good as she looked for forty-something – gasped. "What…who are you?"

"I'm your…replacement," I said with a smirk. "Feel free to leave payment on the bed as you leave."

"I'm not paying for something I didn't get," the woman said, looking at me pointedly.

I laughed. "Sorry, sweetie, but I'm way above your pay grade and once you get up on this, you won't go back. So I'd rather spare you the heartache. Financial heartache, that is."

The woman actually looked forlorn and I watched in barely concealed disbelief as she hesitantly headed for the door.

"So, I'm guessing he didn't send the text to meet earlier?" she asked, stopping in front of me.

"What do you think?"

She sighed and opened the door, slipping through the crack and disappearing. I tossed my bag on the bed and opened the minibar.

"Score." I grabbed the small Jose bottle and tossed the rest of them into my purse.

"Santana?"

"Sup?"

"You're…what are you doing?"

I twisted open the bottle of Jose and threw back a mouthful. Nothing like Jack's classy stuff. And Jose was still pretty decent.

"Santana?"

"What does it look like? I'm taking advantage of Brody's hospitality." I sat on the bed, stretching out.

"But he's not here."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you have a gift for being so dense? It seems like it comes so naturally to you."

Finn just looked at me in confusion. No way was he gonna make it in New York.

"Look, take my advice. Don't come to school here, okay? It's a bad idea. What do you even want to study?"

"Teaching." He actually looked happy about it.

"Weirdly, I can see you not fucking that up, Finnept. Just don't do it here."

"Why not?"

"Because Rachel is in a good place." _Lie_. "She's really focused on her career and she's working hard on becoming Rachel Berry the superstar." _Sort of lie._

"But she's already a star."

"In Lima, yes. We all were. But Ohio is _not_ New York." I sighed in exasperation. "It's like I'm the only person who actually realises that!"

"Is it because of…him?" Finn asked, clenching his fists.

"Believe it or not, Rachel doesn't need a man to define her, no matter what the majority of the female population in Lima seem to believe." I shook my head and took another swig of Jose. I looked at the bottle. "This is the only man I will every need in my life. And my dad. And maybe Kurt because he finds all the good bargain spots in this monstrous city."

"Santana, are you drunk?" Finn chuckled.

"Are you fucking high?" I snapped. "No! God, unlike your precious Berry, I can actually handle two sips of alcohol. Just…go and wait in the bathroom. You're making my boobs hurt."

"I, uh…"

"Fuck off, Finn. And I mean what I said. Don't fuck this up."

* * *

Which is, of course, what he did.

"Jesus, you are quite possibly the most idiotic dipshit to ever walk across my path. And I've hooked up with Trouty Mouth so…you know. Bar's pretty high. Or low. Whatever."

We were walking quickly back to _Coyote Ugly_ because I needed some fucking alcohol. And maybe a distraction…

"Look, I'm sorry, I just…He…and Rachel-"

"Is not your business anymore!" I snapped. "Don't you _get_ that! You can't just call her your future wife! What sort of fucking eighteen hundreds shit is that? Huh? Rachel is not your fucking property." I groaned and rubbed my forehead. "This was such a bad idea. He's gonna go back to the loft and spin some fucking sob story about how this monstrous oaf of a manchild jumped him out of nowhere and started pummelling for no goddamn reason. And you know what? She'll buy it because, for some reason, she's got insane blinkers when it comes to that asshole."

"But-"

"Christ, I know, all right! I know…"

Brody was sleeping with who knew how many fucking women. And Rachel. I'd found over twenty names in his address book on his phone. They all had stars next to their names, so his system hadn't exactly been difficult to figure out. If she'd _forgotten_ one time, how many times had he? And with whom?

"You need to go back to Ohio, Finn. Go to a college close to your parents. It'll be good for Burt to have one of his sons close to him."

Finn looked at me in surprise.

"Shocking, I know," I said dryly. "Santana Lopez actually does have a heart."

"No, I always knew you did," Finn replied. "I just thought you'd left it back in Lima. Kinda like mine came to New York."

I swallowed and looked at the ground, hating that uncontrollable tears were blurring my vision. We were rounding the last two corners before the bar and I could already hear the crowd. It wasn't overbearing, so I knew it wasn't crazy busy. It was still a weeknight. Not that it made much difference to the New York City nightlife.

"Just…go back to Lima, okay? I'll deal with the shitstorm you left behind," I muttered before heading to my apartment. I beelined up the stairs, craving solitude.

"Not so fast, Snixx," Kelly said, grabbing my wrist.

"Seriously not in the mood, Kelly," I snapped, twisting my arm out of her grip.

"Exactly. I could see that little black cloud from five blocks away. I've got five Screaming Orgasms with your name on them."

I arched my brow as she pulled me through the back door and into the madness.

* * *

_She  
May be the reason I survive  
The why and wherefore I'm alive  
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years  
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears  
And make them all my souvenirs  
For where she goes I've got to be  
The meaning of my life is  
She, she, she_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't believe that Santana would have intentionally betrayed Rachel to Finn like the show portrayed that she had. She may not think much of Finn, but Rachel means a great deal to her and Finn provided the potential solution to a problem. The problem being Brody.  
> The song, in case you hadn't figured it out, is She by Elvis Costello. It's not about Brittany, which I'm sure is what you probably thought I was going for. She is Santana.


	5. We Are Never, Ever Getting Back Together

" _I have a dreeeeeeeam!_ " Rachel sang passionately.

" _A song to sing_ ," Kurt added in seriously, with a matching look on his face.

I burst out laughing, holding Jennifer around me as my two roommates did a way better alternative ending to _Mamma Mia_.

The clutched each other dramatically, Colin and Bruce discarded on the couch with me. I quickly fashioned the two boyfriend pillows so that they were intertwined.

"Santana!" Kurt shrilled. "I told you that Bruce and I were exclusive!"

"Oh, come on, Lady Hummel. In this day and age, you can't really expect such a dashing boyfriend pillow to stay attached to your arm forever. This is New York! Besides, I think he and Colin have a lot in common."

We all looked at the virtually identical pillows (down to the shirt) and broke into peals of laughter.

"Well, then I guess it wouldn't hurt if Jennifer borrowed Rosario's licence and went for a night out on the town," Rachel challenged.

"Pffft," I scoffed. I held up an index finger. "One, Jennifer would miss my cuddles too much because, believe it or not, I am an insanely good cuddler. Two, Jennifer went out last night and I had to go and find her at two am! So she's grounded. Thir-"

"Santana, you left her in the damn tub," Kurt cut in, rolling her eyes.

"Language, Kurtsie!" Santana said with an aghast tone. She covered where Jennifer's ears would if, you know, she had any.

Rachel and Kurt just stared at me and I grinned, using Jennifer's hand to wave at them.

"I feel like we've met a different Santana," Kurt said to Rachel. "And honestly, I seriously like this one."

"Hey, I'm right here!" I protested with a pout.

My phone alarm chimed to remind me to get ready for work and I jumped up, holding Jennifer close to me. I don't know what perfume Kurt used on her, but it smelled fucking amazing. And cuddling with her was totally awesome.

I was so relieved to finally be part of their little New York family. Like, officially. I'd lasted all of two days in the apartment above the bar and that had only been because I was completely exhausted from working. Kurt had called me to come back, citing that he felt bad about not believing me when I'd first told him about Brody.

Water under the bridge, though. And I was thankful. Rachel was rid of that deadweight and she was moving forward with her life. She was moving towards frigging _Funny Girl_. Even before I'd moved to New York, I'd seen that movie a few times. I knew Rachel would kill it.

I dressed for work, choosing one of dresses for the occasion. I pulled my hair up into a tight ponytail. It was second nature doing them after the countless times I did them in high school. A few pulls here and there and a twist in the right direction, and presto! Perfect high pony.

I put Jennifer in the middle of my bed. I was totally not ashamed of her. I loved that Kurt had thought of it. Even though I knew he didn't mean it because he thought I was lonely – even though I kinda was – and needed a cuddle buddy – who doesn't? He was just being a good friend.

"I'm off to work," I called, grabbing my big black jacket. "Try not to drive our neighbours insane with your renditions of _Funny Girl_ , Barbra," I teased.

Rachel blew me a kiss and I pretended to swoon. Kurt giggled and they continued with their _Facts of Life_ marathon. I was a little bummed I was missing out, but Kurt had DVR'd six months' worth. So I figured I was safe.

Once I got to work, I slipped my jacket off and put it on a hanger next to Kelly's leather jacket. I recognised it because she'd given it to me to wear the previous night when she asked me to join her outside for a smoke. I hadn't had one since junior year because Britt had hated the tasting the smoke, so I'd quit. Cigars too.

But, well, since Britt wasn't in the picture anymore, it didn't really matter what she thought. I hated that she wasn't in my life. Once upon a time, I could've sworn that I would never be able to live without her. And then…well, life happened. I still missed her. _Terribly_. Especially at night. Especially on Fridays. I hadn't spoken to her in almost a month. That was like forever in me and Brittany time. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d gone that long without speaking...if we ever had.

A pair of arms slipping around my waist from behind broke me from my thoughts.

"Someone's looking decidedly fuckable tonight," Kelly husked in my ear, her hands running all over my stomach.

I broke away and smirked, not even looking at her as I sauntered out of the break room.

"Hey, Jack," I greeted once I reached the bar. Skilfully, I sat up on the bar and swung around.

"Snixx," Jack greeted, tossing me a cloth when I'd landed safely behind the bar. "Rumours of the fire marshal coming through tonight. Best behaviour."

"Yeah, wouldn't wanna accidentally spray him with water or anything, now would I?" I teased.

Jack rolled her eyes. Most of the Coyotes took little jabs at Jack when something happened in the bar that was similar to something from the movie. She took it like a pro, though.

We were just about to open and I could hear the rowdy crowds outside. It was going to be a long night. I didn't mind. Long nights meant awesome dough to add to my NY fund. Mami wasn't exactly thrilled about my job. I loved it, though. Needless to say, she hadn't told Papi about what _exactly_ I did. It was fun and I enjoyed it, but I knew it wasn't a permanent thing. I still had my dreams.

"Santana."

I looked up at Kelly, who was holding up a camera.

"Wanky, Kel. But I think it's a little early in our relationship for a photographic expose, don't you think?"

"As tempting as that sounds, this is first night that all the Coyotes have been working, so we need a new picture for the bar."

I nodded. Kelly called over the other girls and we posed while Jack took a photo. It was one of those old school Polaroid cameras and I grinned when the picture was put up behind the bar, next to the numerous photos of Coyotes that had walked through the bar. There was one with the cast of the movie and I chuckled.

"Scary to think that was thirteen years ago, huh?" Kelly said from next to me.

"God, I was six," I laughed.

"Ugh, I was ten."

Kelly and I had been chatting and I'd found out that she had graduated from her local college in Arizona and had moved to the Big Apple to pursue a career in advertising. But she had a really good idea – performance advertising. Kinda like flash mobs, but a little more geared towards whatever field or arena the company needed. I thought it was pretty fucking awesome, but she'd been having a lot of trouble getting companies to buy into the idea.

"I bet you were a totally cute ten-year-old," I mused, turning back to the bar and making sure that everything in my area was where I needed it.

"Regardless of what you looked like when you were six, I think you look exceptionally cute now," Kelly said with a shit-eating grin on her face.

I rolled my eyes and leaned in to quickly peck her cheek. "You're sweet. But we work together. Jack would flip."

"She doesn't need to know," Kelly countered. "I'm sure you've kept your fair share of secrets."

I froze. I was so sick of secrets. Rachel had almost ruined her life by keeping a secret. Lying to her because Kurt had made a pact with me had sucked. And those were the little ones that I'd kept in the last month. If I had to include my entire high school career, I'd probably spontaneously combust.

"I don't like secrets," I said quietly, grabbing a knife and a lemon, slicing it quickly. "I've kept enough to last me a lifetime."

Kelly didn't say anything for a while, but I knew that she was still there. She stepped close to me and brushed her lips against my cheek. I turned to look at her.

"I'd keep a secret for you if you didn't want to."

I inhaled sharply. Such a simple statement shouldn't have had the effect on me that it did, but no one had been that selfless for me other than Brittany. It was something that stayed in the back of my mind the whole night. When we were dancing on the bar and I caught Kelly's hand, spinning her to me, I could feel both of our hearts and for a moment I felt that connection.

As soon as my shift ended, I left.

Not even Jennifer could lull me to sleep. I was tired and began looking for mischief. My idea to prank Kurt the other day had awakened a long-sleeping prank master in me. I quite liked the idea of a mascara moustache. I snuggled with Jennifer as all manner of ideas flew through my head.

I must have fallen asleep because Rachel was nudging me awake – something she knew not to do unless it was an emergency.

"Fuck it, Berry, _what_?" I snapped.

"You left your phone on the kitchen table when you got home and it's been ringing since seven. I thought you might like to answer it."

"Nobody phones me a seven in the fucking morning, Berry, unless it's you. And you're here so leave me the fuck alone afores I rip your voice box out."

I was not to be trifled with after only two and a half hours of sleep.

"It's Brittany."

I sat up straight. "What?"

"Brittany's been calling you. When she called the first time, I was making tea and I saw her picture, but I thought it would be rude to answer your phone, so I let it go to voicemail. But she just kept calling." Just as Rachel finished her speech, my phone rang again, and a picture of the most perfect girl in the world appeared on my screen.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I hated how ready I was to drop everything. But…it was _Brittany_. The one I would always love the most. I ran a hand through my hair nervously.

_She can't see your hair, you fucking moron._

I looked up at Rachel and she nodded, quickly backtracking out of my room. With a shaking finger, I answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Oh, you are awake!" Brittany's voice answered cheerfully.

"Um, well, I wasn't," I replied.

"Oh, sorry if I woke you. But I just _had_ to tell you voice to voice, San."

A smile tugged at my lips. I almost hated her for the effect she had on me. "Yeah?"

"We did the Spice Girls in Glee!" Brittany squealed, and I immediately got a picture of her sitting on her bed, probably already dressed in her Cheerios uniform, Lord Tubbs against her crossed feet, looking up at her disgruntled as she bounced on the bed.

"Oh, that's awesome, Britt," I said, trying to sound more enthused than I felt. "Um, what song did you do?"

" _Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want_!" Britt sang and I felt my heart clench.

"That's so cool, B," I said, pulling out all the stops into making myself convincingly psyched.

_If only you would open your eyes and see that I'm what you really, really want._

How I hoped that those words were true.

"It was so much fun, San! I was Sporty Spice and I told Mercedes that she couldn't be Scary Spice because that was race inequality and she was Baby Spice! Oh, and Sam came out as a Fanilow and everyone was so supportive! We all sang with him and everything."

_A fucking Fanilow? Are you shitting me? And he came out about that?_

"Wow, Britt." I didn't even pretend to hide my total lack of enthusiasm. "It's really awesome to know that Trouty Mouth has such unwavering support when coming to terms with a life-changing revelation."

Brittany was quiet, but I didn't feel bad. I hadn't heard from her in a _month_ – yeah, I'd told her not to send me any messages – and the first thing I hear from her is something about the fucking Spice Girls and Sam fucking Evans' belated coming out. She hadn't even said hello. Was she being callous on purpose?

_That's just ridiculous. Brittany couldn't be callous if it was tattooed on Trouty's ass._

I wouldn't apologise for my deserved anger. She'd promised that we'd be best friends, but she'd forgotten about one of the most important dates in _our_ history and I was just supposed to be _okay_ with that?

Maybe I should just practise what I preach. I'd told Berry that being friends with exes never worked. I guess Britt and I were living proof.

"I want to say sorry, but I don't know what I need to say sorry for," Brittany eventually said quietly.

My mouth dropped open. I loved Britt's honestly. Really, I did. But even I got a shock when she blatantly admitted to not remembering the first time that I told her I loved her.

"You…you really don't remember?" I whispered.

"No, but please tell me, Santana. Because I hate not being able to talk to you."

I bit back the sob that caught in my throat, but some of it escaped. "I… That day…back in junior year, I told y-you that I l-loved you," I stuttered, trying not to let the sound of my crying come across the line, but I knew she'd know. "I t-told you that I love you and you chose someone e-else."

"San-"

"No! You forgot that! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? After you chose a guy over me _again_ , you just acted I was supposed to be okay with you dating someone else and throwing it in my face when you _know_ that I'm still in love with you. I thought…" I took a quick breath, careful not to let my anger get the better of my tongue. As mad as I was, I wouldn't ever say anything malicious just to hurt her. "I thought that maybe once you graduated, that if you decided to come out to New York, that maybe we could…I dunno, try again. But…you forgot once of the most important moments of my life, of our relationship. And you don't even seem to care that you did. I don't…I can't forget that."

Brittany was silent, but I could hear quiet sniffles. That only aggravated my muted crying. I hated making Brittany cry. But she _had_ to know what she'd done.

"S-San, I'm so, so sorry."

"Did you forget, Brittany? Did you honestly forget what day it was?"

Brittany's silence was enough of a confirmation.

"Oh my God!" I sobbed, not bothering to keep them back. I felt my entire world crashing down around me. She forgot. That meant that she didn't love me anymore; she didn't even care enough to remember the little things that had built the foundation of our relationship. Did she remember me singing _Songbird_? Did she remember writing _My Cup_ for me at Nationals? Did she remember our amazing summer together before senior year? Did she remember being the only person who made me feel like I was strong enough to endure coming out? Did she remember wanting to announce me as her First Lady when she made Class President? Did she remember dancing together, singing together, loving, kissing, sleeping, making love, laughing, just being together. Did she remember any of it?

I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the last thing that I could possibly ever say to the love of my life. "I love you, Brittany. That hasn't changed and probably won't for a very long time. I hope that he makes you happy."

I ended the call and brought my knees up to my chest, burying my face behind them. I just let the tears run. I don't even know how long I cried for, but at some point, I felt two pairs of arms encircle me and hold me close.

"Sweetie, what can we do?" Rachel asked softly.

I just shook my head. "Go to school. I'll be fine."

They hesitated and I loved them for it.

"Go," I urged. "Seriously. I'll still be here when you get back."

"Promise?" Rachel asked, dipping her head to meet my watery gaze.

"Yeah. I promise."

I waited for them to disappear through my curtain before grabbing hold of Jennifer and hiding myself under my covers. Only when I heard the door slide closed did I let myself cry again.

* * *

Thankfully, I didn't have a shift at work that night, but I was due to call my parents. I just sent Mami a message saying that I'd spoken to Brittany, it hadn't gone well and I needed some time. Typical Mami, she'd sent a message back immediately, telling me how much she loved me and how proud she was of me for following my dreams. I almost sent a text back saying that I'd left my dream back in Lima and that dream had just smashed into smithereens. Who the hell had a remedy for that?

Why did I have to go and fall in fucking love with the one girl who meant everything to me? Maybe this was why there were so many romcoms about best friends falling in love and it not working out. Best friends are meant to stay just that. Not fall in love.

I think that in the back of my mind, I'd always harboured the hope that Britt and I would find a way to be together again. Now I was all too painfully aware that it was a pipe dream – one that would never come true.

I wished that I could say that I would be fine as long as Brittany was happy. But I'd be lying. We'd been happy together. Well, at least _I'd_ been happy. We'd been broken up for a few months but had spent pretty much all of our high school years together. How could she have just forgotten me, forgotten everything that we'd gone through to finally be together, proudly so?

My phone chimed again and I just shut my eyes. If I didn't answer another text message or phone call, it would be too soon. But the incessant noise was getting to me. Whomever it was didn't seem to take a hint.

Nine new messages. I opened the first text from Rachel.

_I think we need some vodka ice cream. I'll bring some home for us._

Rachel Berry. An ice cream princess. The next was from Kurt.

_Rachel said something about alcoholic ice cream? I'm not sure if that's some secret lady code you have going on and if so, why have I not been included? I am hurt._

I knew he wasn't. He knew me well enough to know that I find his sass humorous.

_Rosario, my little spies tell me that you need some cheering up. I can be there tomorrow if you want me to be? Emily._

Thank fucking God for Quinn Fabray.

_Get your ass here, Fabray._

I read through a few emails that had come through. The last text message made me freeze and I was pretty sure that I stopped breathing.

_I could never forget YOU. I will always love you the most too._

I wanted to scream and yell and punch her because it wasn't fair for her to say something like that when she had made conscious decisions that had brought us to this point. I fought with myself as my fingers hovered over the reply tab. Eventually, I decided that she needed to know that she was wrong.

_That is so unfair. You can't say that to me after everything. You didn't choose me. Yes, I broke up with you because I wasn't good for you at the time. But when I had sorted my shit out, I came for you. I always come for you. And you rejected me. Again. I'm not going to wait around to have my heart broken a third time, Brittany. I can't anymore. You don't do that to the people you love 'the most'. I was always yours. Always. And you threw that back in my face. Again._

My screen was blurry as tears overran my lids and trickled down my cheeks. I sent the message and turned my phone off. Nothing that anyone said would make a difference. Mami could call me to say she'd won the lottery, but I still wouldn't move. Even if Rachel got the part in _Funny Girl_ , I may give her a half-hearted smile, but nothing like the celebration I would've thrown half an hour ago.

* * *

Minutes turned into hours. Rachel and Kurt came back and succeeded in getting me out of bed, but I just moved to the couch, holding Jennifer to me and scarfing down far too much ice cream. If it meant that I could forget for one night, then I would.

Of course, it had slipped everyone's mind what type of drunk I was and twenty minutes into _West Side Story_ , I was bawling into Jennifer's tartan dress. Rachel fed me more ice cream and I must've passed out because the next thing I remembered was waking up sprawled out across the couch, my face planted between Jennifer's fake boobs. I suddenly chuckled, but the muscle movement stirred whatever unsavoury substances ere in my stomach and I had to make a mad dash for the bathroom. Thankfully, there wasn't anyone in there to see me empty my guts into the toilet. I felt a little better after the second offering to the porcelain goddess and managed to get myself into the shower.

I definitely felt more human after my piping hot shower. Hummelberry could bitch that I'd used all the hot water when they got home. It was pretty light outside, so I figured that it was probably late morning.

I spent the rest of the morning cleaning the apartment. Yes, actually cleaning. It was something that I did when I was hungover. Don't ask me why. I took another nap before I had to leave for work. Routine was my ally. Too much time on my own was the absolute worst. And unfortunately, with two roommates that went to school during the day, I was left with a lot of time on my own.

The bar was pumping. Kelly wasn't working, which I was extra thankful for. I didn't think I'd be able to deal with her too. I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I lit a cigarette form the box that I'd impulsively bought myself on the way to work. A sudden gust of wind blew the lighter out and I struggled to get it to start again.

_Not fucking now. Come on, just fucking light._

A flame appeared next to me and I lifted my head to meet Kelly's calm brown eyes. I lit my cigarette and we just stood looking at each other.

"Something happened?" Kelly asked.

I just nodded once, ashing the cigarette and immediately taking another drag to avoid having to say anything.

"You okay?"

I paused, looking at her for a while before slowly shaking my head. Kelly stepped closer and I let her.

"I can take the hurt away for a bit," she murmured, tucking my loose hair behind my ear. "If you'd like?"

I killed my cigarette and grabbed Kelly's jacket, pulling her to me, our mouths meeting in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My little Brittana heart is very disillusioned at the moment :( I really feel like we're supporting a fandom (not that I'll stop) that the writers have no intention of bringing back together… Perhaps I'm preparing for that inevitability. So I apologize for the angst. I never want to see Brittana estranged and unhappy and apart, yet the writers have done a bang up job of doing just that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I was blown away by Shooting Star. The acting was brilliant and the writing was better than it has been all season! Distaste and timing aside, I was very impressed. Just my opinion… This chapter takes place the day of the shooting, once everyone leaves.

I frowned at Kurt's phone as it buzzed for about the tenth time in five minutes. Huffing to myself, I immersed myself in the new _Vogue_ and ignored the incessant noise. But after the twentieth time, I couldn't anymore.

"Porcelain! Your phone is fucking disturbing me! Please be so kind as to tell the person so eagerly texting you that there are actual vibrators available. They don't need to use your phone as imitation."

"Santana, that's disgusting," Kurt muttered, stepping over my stretched-out feet and picked up his phone.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You say that almost as though you're surprised. I'm truly hurt that you haven't been paying enough attention to me to realise this. I…" My voice trailed off as I saw Kurt's already pale complexion turn almost white. He dropped onto the couch.

"What is it?" I asked nervously. Shit, what if it was his dad? What if something had happened to him?

"The… At… There's been… Gunshots," was all he managed to get out.

My heart started pounding and I pulled out my phone, immediately scrolling to a number that I knew by heart.

_Pick up. Fuck, pick up!_

Brittany's phone just rang until her perky voicemail answered. I hung up and immediately tried again. After four times, I was shaking.

"What… Does Blaine know what happened?" I whispered.

Kurt shook his head. He just stared in front of him and spoke monotonously. "They were having a Glee meeting and suddenly there were two shots and Mr. Schue and Coach Beiste are with them. They've barricaded themselves inside the choir room."

"Is Britt with them?" I asked immediately. She could’ve just left her phone in her locker. Or Tubbs could've stolen it.

I watched as Kurt typed quickly. My heart almost stopped when his phone buzzed. He was quiet as he read it and I snapped after too much silence.

"Fuck it, Kurt! You'd better tell me that she's with them!" I shouted.

Kurt turned and looked at me. In that moment, I felt all the breath leave my body. _No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Not Brittany. Jesus fucking Christ, not Brittany. Anyone but Brittany._ Me _instead of Brittany!_

"Kurt." My voice broke. I was suddenly aware of tears streaming down my cheeks. "Please."

He shuffled closer to me and took my hand. I pulled it away and glared at him.

"She went to the girls' bathroom before the shots. Sam tried to go and get her, but Mr. Schue wouldn't let him. She doesn't have her phone with her."

"Oh, God." I broke down. The thought that she could be…that she…

I couldn't imagine it. Even if we weren't really speaking, I knew she was always there. She was always there, in the back of my mind. I stood up and ran into my room, stuffing random clothes into a bag.

"Santana, what are you doing?" Kurt asked.

"What does it look like I'm fucking doing?" I snapped. I zipped up the bag and grabbed my ID and passport from my dresser drawer. I met his eyes. "I'm going to Lima."

* * *

He tried to stop me, but there was no way that I wasn't going to be there. Fuck everything that Brittany and I had been dealing with over the last two months. It didn't matter. Brittany did. Brittany always mattered. I could hate her and still love her.

Then again, I could never hate her…

Thank God for Mami's money. I'd managed to get a last-minute ticket to Lima. My phone buzzed and I almost dropped it in my eagerness to unlock the new message. My heart was pounding, but disappointment flooded through me when I saw that it was from Kelly. We'd made plans to go out that night because we were both off. Kelly was the last thing on my mind, though. I typed out a quick apology, saying that I had to go back to Lima for an emergency. I tried Britt's cell a few more times until it started going straight to voicemail. Her phone had probably died. I hoped. I sniffled and typed out a message, hoping and praying that she would be able to read it at some point.

_I love you. I'm so scared right now and all I need to do is hear your voice, see you and make sure that you're okay. It may be a bad idea, but I'm at the airport right now. My flight to Lima leaves in half an hour. I'm so sorry about everything, Britt. I love you so much. Always, Santana xx_

I sent it and put it in my pocket before my shaking hands dropped it. She couldn't be… God, what if the last thing that I'd said to her had been that she'd thrown my love back in my face? What kind of person did that make me? Yeah, she'd hurt me, but how many times had I hurt her back in high school by pretending that it was just practice for boys and that sex wasn't dating? Far too many to count. But I knew that my actions had hurt her. Brittany, being the perfect person that she was, of course never called me out on it. She just accepted it. Accepted me.

I covered my mouth with my hands and tried desperately not to cry. Again. I just…the mere thought of a life without Brittany was unfathomable. Not a life away from each other, a life where she didn't exist anymore.

Where she didn't exist…

_God, no, she can't be! She's too beautiful and wonderful and perfect to not continue living. She makes everything in this miserable world better. She makes me better…_

For the first time since I was five, I clasped my hands together, shut my eyes and prayed to Ellen or whatever God was out there to protect Brittany.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time I pulled up on the curb opposite her house. Her phone was still off and I had gone way past freaking out. Nervously, I paid the taxi driver and climbed out, my bag clutched tightly in my hand. I hadn't even stopped at my parents. All I could focus on was Brittany. I needed to see her. I felt like I wouldn't be able to breathe properly until I did.

I stepped forward, but saw a familiar car turn onto the street. I quickly backtracked and stood behind a tree, my heart pounding. Kurt's old car that I knew Sam was using pulled into the driveway. I kept my eyes peeled on the passenger side. I ceased all oxygen intake when it opened. Long toned legs stepped out and I started crying silently to myself.

She was okay. She was alive. I watched as Sam came around and took her hand, leaning in to kiss her. I slid ungracefully to the ground, still hidden behind the tree and cried. I cried because she wasn't hurt or worse. I cried because I'd been _so_ scared. I cried because I hadn't been there. And Sam had. He'd been there. I hadn't.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. Really fucking painful bricks. Brittany loved Sam. Maybe not as much as she'd loved me, but she loved him. And he was there. I lived in New York. My life was in New York. And Brittany was with Sam in Lima.

Something that Rachel had told me on my first day in New York came back into my mind.

" _It might be best for you to let go of what's in Lima."_

Hell, I'd even told her that being friends with an ex was kinda pointless. Who was I trying to kid? The only way that Britt and I could ever have a future was if she decided to make a move to New York after graduation. And who even knew if that was what she wanted? I knew that I still wanted a future with her. Even if it never happened, I would always wish for it. Which kinda sucked for me because how was I supposed to move on if it was always going to be Brittany?

My phone rang and my heart started pounding. I took a few deep breaths, doubtful that they would even make a difference and took the call.

"Hello?

"San?"

I breathed out and my eyes fluttered closed. "You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

"I was so scared I'd never get to hear you again," she replied in a trembling voice.

It made me want to run inside and hug her, but a quick glance told me that Sam was still with her. I wouldn't take that away from them. This being mature thing sucked ass.

"Are you here?"

I bit my lip and peeked around my tree, my eyes lingering at her window. "No," I whispered eventually. "I decided not to. I…I know you have Sam so it's just better if I stay away." My heart was splintering painfully as I forced out every word.

"Oh. I was hoping…I mean, I really want to see you."

"I know, Britt-Britt. But I bet your family and Sam want to see you more."

"But…"

"It's okay. You can call me whenever, Britt."

"Promise?" It sounded like she was about to cry.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tears leaked out, running down my face. "I promise, Brittany," I choked out. "I'm…I'm really, really glad that you're okay."

"I'm not okay," she whispered.

"Why?" We were both whispering.

"Because all I could think about was you," Brittany sobbed. "About how much I miss you and how much I want to see you and hold and kiss you."

Shit, shit. She was saying all the right things, things that I shouldn't say back. But fuck, I wanted to.

"I miss you too," I eventually said in a shaky voice. "I'm sorry that I'm not there, Britt. But I'm sure that Sam and Delly and your mom will make everything better again."

"No," she whispered. "I want you."

"I c-c-can't, Britt," I stuttered through my tears. "You have Sam. I won't make you choose again. You deserve to be happy."

"But-" Her voice was cut off by a deep voice. I knew it was Sam.

"Goodbye, Britt," I whispered, even if she couldn't hear me, and ended the call. I pulled my legs to my chest and let the tears fall. It felt like that goodbye had been a lot more than the end of a phone call.

* * *

I didn't even know how long I had been sitting hiding behind my tree, but when my eyes were dry and sore, and my skin felt tight, I looked up to see a sunset sky. I sighed, picked up my bag and started walking in the direction of my parents' house. It was about a twenty-minute walk, but I used the time to clear my head. It was filled with Brittany, with our history, both good and bad. All the times I'd made her smile and cry, how I could count on one hand the times she'd gotten mad at me, how she felt, how _we_ felt, her sparkling eyes, her hypnotising smile-

I took a shaky breath, realising that tears were falling once more. I rounded the corner that led to my street. Well, my parents' street. I needed to start thinking of Lima as the place where my parents lived, where Brittany lived. Not where I lived. Not anymore. I vaguely heard a voice yelling, but I was so lost in my head that I ignored it. But then it got closer and became clearer.

"Santana!"

I paused and my heart started thudding. Only one person said my name that way. Was my mind playing tricks on me? Because I knew that I had lost her completely and forever?

"Santana!"

I swallowed and turned around. My eyes widened. She was running down the sidewalk, about a hundred metres from me. I dropped my bag and stepped forward, pausing and then taking another step. She was getting closer and before I could react, her arms were around me and she was crying into my neck. I held her tightly and savoured the moment. Who knew how long it was going to last?

Brittany pulled away and started kissing me. It took a surprised second for me to respond. I mean, it was Brittany. I could never not kiss her.

It felt as explosive as it always had. I'm pretty sure that our bodies couldn't be closer together. Britt broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against mine, breathing heavily as tears ran down her beautifully freckled cheeks.

"Y-You don't get to lie to me," she sobbed and it made me start crying again. "You can't say that you're not here when I need you here."

"Britt," I whispered. "I…I'm not _here_ , though. I just… I needed to make sure you were okay. But I'm not here."

"I need you," she argued.

"You have Sam."

"Not like-"

"He was there."

She pulled back and gave me a watery look shrouded in confusion. "What?"

"He was there," I repeated, stepping back, but she held onto me tightly. "I wasn't."

"But I wanted you there," Brittany whispered.

"Does he make you happy?"

She looked at me, slowly realising what I was doing. She shook her head, but I knew it was because she didn't want to hear me say it.

"Brittany, answer the question."

"No."

I sighed and it rustled the shattered pieces of my heart and made me wince slightly. I thought I'd felt heartbreak before, but nothing quite compared to this physical pain. I wondered if it would ever go away.

"You’re a terrible liar, Britt,” I said softly, my tone void of any antagonism. “He does. He makes you laugh and keeps you safe. He loves you and you love him."

"No, but not like you," Brittany protested.

I shook my head and pried her hands off my back. I stepped away from her and tried to summon up some courage before meeting her eyes. "You're happy with him and I'm not going to ruin another relationship for you, Brittany. You deserve everything in this world, and I can't give you everything."

_Even though I would fucking move heaven and earth to do so._

"No, Santana, please!" she begged. "Please don't leave me. Don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything that hasn't already been done, Brittany." My voice started to quiver slightly. "You know that I love you, that I could never ever love anyone the way that I love you. But I'm trying to discover who I am outside of being a cheerleader and being your girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend." I shook my head slightly. "You need to focus on school and graduating and going wherever you can because you're _so_ smart, Britt, and you need to focus on your future. Just like I'm focusing on mine."

"Am I in your future?" she whispered.

I gulped.

"Please don't lie," she added, her eyes desperate.

I just nodded, not trusting my voice. Before I could stop her, she was kissing me again. A strangled moan escaped my throat, but I managed to gather some will power to push her away. "You can't do that, Britt."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not single. And I'm hours and hours away from you. Sam is here, he's with you and you love him."

Brittany was quiet and just stared at me. I'd missed the times when we'd lay on either of our beds and just look at each other. We hadn't needed many words to fill the silence. I knew what she was thinking, but part of me needed to hear it.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm graduating," she said firmly, "and I'm coming to find you."

My heart picked up a little at her declaration. "But…what about Sam?"

She sighed. "I don't know. All I know is that in the moments when I thought…when I felt like I would never see you again, that was all I wanted. I wanted you, Santana. And that made me realise that whatever shit is between us needs to be sorted out because I can't be without you."

"I'm you best friend," I whispered.

"I know. But I want the best friend that I had last year. I want the girl who sang to me and made me feel like the most special girl in the world because she always held my hand when we walked to class."

I felt myself blush and I looked down. Brittany tipped my chin up and continued, "I want the girl who wasn't afraid to stand up for us when people complained about our public sweet lady kisses. I want the girl who found super special ways to make our Friday night date nights completely amazing."

The small smile that had formed on my face dropped at that.

"What?" she prodded.

I knew that we were in our honest hour so I took a deep breath and met her curious gaze. "You do all of that with Sam. You go to Breadstix and pretend to be British. He takes you away on romantic weekends. He sings you songs. Britt…"

It was Brittany's turn to look down and she reluctantly dropped my hands.

"This feels like you're breaking up with me again," she mumbled.

"I can't break up with you again, Britt," I said, allowing my fingers to trace down her face. "You're not mine to break up with."

"You don't regret it?"

I let my hand drop. "Partly, yes. Because I do still love you so much and I hate that I'm not _that_ person for you anymore. But I don't regret it because you found someone else to love you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. I couldn't be there for you and I hated it. I hated that you felt like I'd left you behind. We both needed to move forward and we couldn't do that with each other."

Brittany was crying again. "Do you think we'll ever get back together?"

"Never say never, Britt," I said softly. "Who knows, I may come and sweep you off your feet at Regionals."

She smiled and I matched it, even if it was forced. I hated not knowing if I would ever be able to call her mine again. Was it even stupid to dream about the possibility? Was I just setting myself up for more disappointment and heartache?

"Are you leaving now?"

I looked at my parents' house. "I'm gonna go say hi to my parents. They'll be super pissed if I came back and didn't visit them. But I'll probably head back tomorrow morning."

"Can I see you?" she asked eagerly.

I pulled my lips into a thin line. "I don't think so, Britt."

"Oh."

"We're friends, okay?"

She nodded. "Best friends."

"Okay." For the most part, I hated that label. Brittany and I had always been so much more than best friends. I pulled her close for a hug but didn't allow it to get too intimate. As soon as I felt her nuzzling my neck, I broke away and stepped back a little. She sighed.

"I'll be seeing you," I whispered, turning and walking up to my parents' house, not daring to look back. I knew that if I did, I'd just run back down and kiss her stupid. And then probably end up doing some really stupid thing that we wouldn't be able to undo.

My throat burned from the desire to cry and me fighting it. I didn't bother knocking and opened the door, knowing that at least Mami would be home. I leaned against the closed door and let the tears fall once more.

* * *

Kurt was the first person that I saw the following morning when I opened the door to our apartment. He immediately stood from the couch – it looked like he'd slept there – and came up to me, not saying anything before he wrapped me up in a hug. I eventually dropped my bag and hugged him back.

"You're back," I heard Rachel say.

She was still in her pyjamas and Kurt released me just in time before I had Rachel Berry pressed up against me. My arms were pinned against my side and I smiled awkwardly.

"Okay, Berry. Any longer and I may start thinking you're attracted to me."

She stepped away quickly and I smirked. For someone with gay parents, she was quick to shun any lewd comment from me directed towards her sexuality.

"Coffee," Kurt declared, scooting Rachel to the kitchen and guiding me to the living room. He sat me down and we just looked at each other for a while.

"What?" I eventually asked.

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what happened."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because, Santana, whether you choose to believe it or not, we are the best friends you're ever going to have, especially in New York," Rachel said, her voice travelling from the kitchen. "And because we care about you."

"Wow, guess my gaydar wasn't too far off with Berry," I stage-whispered.

"Stop deflecting," Kurt chastised.

I sighed. "Fine. Well, she's fine. Obviously. Um, I guess we kinda talked."

Rachel arrived back with three cups of coffee and I immediately grabbed one to keep my nervous hands occupied. They looked at me expectantly.

I grimaced and begrudgingly gave them a brief overview of what had happened.

"I wonder if it was the best choice to give Brittany a kind of false hope like that," Rachel mused.

I frowned. "How is that false hope?"

"Well, because how do you know if you're going to be emotionally available if Brittany decides to come to New York in the fall?"

"I love her," I said simply, shrugging.

"But what about Kelly?" Kurt pressed.

They had met her when she'd been over to the apartment and we'd spent the night snuggled together watching movies on my laptop. We hadn't slept together but make out sessions were frequent. I did like her and I was definitely attracted to her. But…

She wasn't Brittany.

After kissing Britt again, nothing else compared. And nothing else would compare until I kissed her again. I hoped that I wouldn't have to wait forever to kiss her again…

"I was never serious about Kelly," I replied.

"Bullshit."

Kurt and I stared at Rachel.

"I'm not blind, Santana. I saw how you were looking at her. You have something with her and you're willing to, what? Throw it away, ignore it completely, _hoping_ that Brittany will come and find you?"

I was quiet. I knew she had a point. A lot could happen between now and graduation. If Brittany chose to go somewhere else, I knew that I wouldn't be able to judge her or be angry with her because I'd told her to do just that. She needed to find what _she_ wanted. Not what she thought I wanted, or _who_ she wanted. As much as I would love for her to come to New York and be with me, it suddenly hit me that holding onto that hope until graduation would slowly kill me.

"She's already caused you so much hurt in the last few months, Santana," Rachel said quietly. "I would just hate to see it continue."

I nodded and stood up. "I think I'm gonna go to bed. I, uh, didn't get much sleep last night. And I'm working tonight, so…"

I just walked away and grabbed my bag from next to the door, heading straight for my corner and pulling the curtain across the opening roughly. I kicked my boots off and quickly undressed. I didn't feel like wearing anything so I crawled under my cover with nothing on. I curled up and reached for my phone, which I'd placed on my nightstand. I knew Britt had texted me; I'd felt it while I was talking to Rachel and Kurt. She'd sent me a picture.

_Say hello to Lady Tubbington! Lord Tubbington is in luuuurve._

I wanted to smile, but I couldn't. I just sent her a brief text back saying that she looked gorgeous and that if Lord T didn't treat her well, I'd have to kick his ass.

I reached for Jennifer and pulled her close, burying my face in her cushy boobs. My phone buzzed, but I didn't answer it right away. I spent a few moments going over Rachel's words and what Mami had told me the previous night. Something along pretty similar lines, actually.

_I wish I'd had fake children with you._

I frowned in confusion. That was way over even my head. And I was pretty damn fluent in Brittany.

_Fake children? You mean you don't want real kids?_

I occurred to me after pressing send that talking about children, real or not, was probably not the best idea.

_No, silly. Of course I do :) I just mean that I wish I'd fake married you, or even real married you instead of Sam. Then we could have a fake family. Or a real one :)_

I froze. Married? _Married?_ What the fuck? What the _actual_ fuck? I tried to interpret her message in every possible way, but it all came back to that one word. There wasn't really anything else that it could mean. Brittany had married Sam. Fake married or not, she had agreed to _marry_ him.

 _Jesus._ I was suddenly transported to over a month ago where Brittany had confessed to not remembering when I'd first told her I loved her.

She'd married Sam.

I started crying uncontrollably, my sobs increasing in volume. I didn't even hear my curtain open until two weights were laying on either side of me. Rachel took my phone and breathed in sharply when she read the message. I couldn't do anything to stop her.

She'd _married_ him. She'd exchanged vows. She's promised to love him forever. Brittany didn't take things like love declarations easily.

_Well, apparently, she does._

Why did she always hurt me? Did she even realise what she said? How could she possibly think that even a fake marriage would be okay? That I would actually be okay with it? When did it happen? If it had happened before I'd gone back to Lima during Diva week, then it was even more of a slap in the face, because I hadn't even known they were dating. For them to be _married_? She hadn't even told me.

With each tear escaping my shut eyes, I felt the hope of a future with Britt slipping further and further away…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super angsty, I know. I just can't believe that the NY crowd wouldn't have heard about it and done nothing. Well, not Santana, anyway… And she has to know about the wedding. I mean, for fuck's sake. Similarly, how can Britt not know that she slept with Quinn? It doesn't make sense that these events go unheard.


	7. Where Do We Go From Here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the last chapter was uber angsty. Trying to bring a little bit of the snarky Santana we love into this chapter. It's difficult when she's not in the episode…  
> We start this chapter before Rachel makes her call to Finn.

After that horrendous week in senior year where Lumps the moronic clown decided to fucking out me to a crowded hallway and thereby force me out of the closet before I was ready, I was pretty sure that I would never feel so alone and so scared again.

I was wrong.

What could possibly be worse than being so completely in love with someone who doesn't seem to love you as much? Brittany had told me at the end of junior year that she'd never loved anyone as much as she loved me. Part of me was so desperate to believe that was still true, yet her actions told me a completely different story.

It had been a week since the shooting. Brittany was blissfully unaware of how much pain she had inflicted upon me and after being confronted with almost losing her, I was petrified of going another two months without talking to her. As much as it hurt me, I still needed her in my life. Did it make me a glutton for punishment? Absolutely. I'd resigned to that fact, though.

"Hey, where are you?" Kelly nudged my shoulder.

We were standing outside before work having a smoke. I met her curious eyes. It had been pretty obvious how distant I'd been since getting back from Lima and to Kelly's credit, she hadn't pushed me for any answers. She'd just been there. And I couldn't actually have asked for anything better. I guess almost losing the love of your life shoves things into perspective a bit. And Rachel was right – I _was_ attracted to Kelly. And not just physically. She was there. I was there. Just like Brittany was in Lima and Sam was in Lima.

"Sorry, I just…"

"Brittany," Kelly said softly, nodding.

I stared at her, trying to gauge some kind of reaction. Part of me wished that there was irritation or something there; something that I could fault her for. But there wasn't. She was just as understanding as always.

"I'm sorry I've been so…detached this week, Kel," I apologised, tossing the butt of my dead cigarette to one side. "My head is kind of all over the place and I know it's not fair to drag you into my shit."

"Hey." Kelly killed her cigarette and stepped in front of me, linking her arms around my waist. "If I haven't skedaddled by now, don't you think that I'm kinda planning on sticking around?"

I gave her a small smile. "How are you still single? You're like, completely amazing."

Kelly chuckled. "I'm picky. I like my girls fiery. I like it when I'm kept guessing." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "And you're about as fiery as they come, Snixx, which makes you worth my time and patience."

I sucked my lips in and dropped my gaze. Even when Brittany told me stuff like that, I always found it hard to believe. I mean, I'm _me_. Fucked up, selfish, angry, volatile, unpredictable, closed off Santana. How could anyone actually like me, let alone love me?

"Try and stay out of your head for tonight, okay?" Kelly suggested softly. "Just enjoy a busy night at work and make some dough to add to your ever-growing stash."

I sighed. "My stash is quickly dwindling. I really didn't realise how expensive living in New York is. Even though I have _Coyote_ , in a few months it's not gonna be enough. And then what? I go back to Lima?" I pulled a face in disgust and Kelly smiled.

"So what about getting another job? You have the time, right?"

I nodded. I only worked four nights per week at the bar. I'd tried looking for something during the day to keep myself occupied, but I had standards. Waitressing was below that standard.

"Well, your girl is gonna come through for you."

I arched a brow. "My girl?"

"Duh. I'm sure as fuck not your boy," Kelly teased.

I chuckled. "Thank God for that."

"I know a guy."

"Well, this doesn't sound like I'm about to get shanked."

"Shut up. You're a dancer, right?"

I nodded. I could dance. Pretty well, too.

"So this guy I know works at a club where they have cage dancing."

"Isn't that kinda like stripping?" I asked, frowning. "I appreciate the thought, and even though I can rock a pole like no other, I'm not _that_ desperate to take my clothes off for money."

Kelly laughed. "No, loser. Cage dancing is just that – dancing in a cage. Yeah, you wear some super sexy outfits which you will, naturally, look smoking hot in and I will be forced to be your cage guard."

"Oh, my cage guard, huh? You seem pretty confident that I'm gonna take this offer."

"Well, I think it's right up your alley."

I lifted a shoulder. She had a point. Sexy dancing was totally my thing. I could do that shit with my eyes closed. And still look hot.

"I'll think about it," I conceded eventually. "But not tonight, seeing as how you suggested that I stay out of my head."

"Deal," Kelly replied with a grin, leaning in.

I kissed her back sweetly. It felt…different, but not necessarily in a bad way.

* * *

I roused myself at around one the next afternoon. Kelly had come home with me, and although we hadn't done anything, it was really nice to have a _live_ cuddle buddy. Jennifer was awesome, but the real thing was infinitely better. And Kelly was definitely a cuddler.

I disengaged myself from her and walked through to the kitchen, yawning and rubbing my eyes awake.

"Morning," I mumbled to Rachel, grabbing two mugs from the cupboards and pouring coffee.

"Good afternoon," she replied, eyeing me as I poured a second cup. "Kelly stayed over again?"

"Hmmm," I hummed in response. "We had a few too many shots last night."

"You seem to be faring relatively well for someone with a hangover."

I smirked. "That place has increased my limit tenfold. I can hold my shit way better than a month ago." I glanced at Rachel when I didn't get a response to that. "What's up?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're quiet. Which is, I'm pretty sure, genetically impossible for you. Unless you're stressing out about something. Is it your _Funny Girl_ audition?"

Rachel sighed, that drama queen I knew and loved (sort of…sometimes) making a small reappearance. "I'm having trouble deciding on a song. Shelby suggested-"

"Hold up. Shelby? As in Corcoran? As in my old show choir coach? As in your _mother_?"

"Yes, she showed up at NYADA yesterday while I was about to rehearse _Don't Rain on My Parade_ and-"

"You're not doing that song," I cut in firmly, holding a hand up. "You've sung that song to death. Do you remember what happened the last time you sang it?"

Rachel blushed. "Like I need a reminder of that train wreck."

"Well, maybe you do," I retorted. "You keep saying that you're focusing on yourself and your career, but you can't do that if you continue singing the same fucking songs you sang four years ago! If you want to grow, Rachel, you music selection needs to as well."

"Okay, so what do you suggest? Amy Winehouse?" she snapped.

I grinned and poured sugar in the coffee for Kelly and myself. "You couldn't even dream of doing Amy any justice. That's my department. Honestly, if I was a judge listening to fifty people all singing the same fucking song, I'd be ready to pull my hair out. Stay away from show tunes. Yes, that's your forte and you nail it. But that's just it. We _know_ you'd nail a show tune and so do you. You need to show the judges that you're versatile."

Rachel frowned as my words sunk into her vegan-addled brain. Seriously, I had no idea how she functioned. Before heading back to the loft, Kelly and I had stopped off at a diner and wolfed down some seriously greasy and delicious meaty burgers. Why would _anyone_ give that up?

"Here's a thought. Why don't you give Frankenteen a call and see what he says?" I suggested, picking up the two mugs.

"Finn? Why?"

"Because romantically, you two are a fucking train wreck, but musically, you're irritating and nauseatingly amazing together. He'll have the perfect song for you. Or at least tell you what you need to hear to find that song."

Rachel smiled. "Thank you, Santana."

"Whatever." I brushed it off, but she knew that it was my way of saying _you're welcome_. "I'm going back to bed because I've got to work later."

"Yes, can't leave Kelly too long in bed by herself now can we?" Rachel teased.

I gasped dramatically. "Rachel Berry! I'll have you know that I am a very good girl from a conservative family who would never even _think_ of partaking in anything remotely intercourse-y."

She laughed and I stuck my tongue out with a wink. Our friendship had really blossomed into harmless teasing as opposed to my blatant insulting. I think both of us were very happy with the new state of things. It was exhausting coming up with a new insult every time I saw her. Even though I very obviously had a gift for creative insults, my affection (strictly platonic) for The Artist Formally Known As Man Hands actually went pretty fucking deep and I knew how much my vicious, vicious words had hurt her back in high school.

"Hey, you have a phone call," Kelly said as soon as I ducked through the curtain, holding my phone out to me. "Sorry, the ringing woke me up."

"Who is it?" I asked, holding out the mug. "Careful, it's hot."

"Brittany."

I froze. _Shit_. I put my mug on my nightstand. What did Kelly say? What did _Brittany_ say? What would my automatic reaction be if someone else that I didn't know had answered her phone?

"Hello?" I said, putting the phone to my ear.

"San?"

"Hey, Britt." Silence. I frowned. "Hello?"

"Um, who was that?"

"Kelly," I replied, glancing at her. She just sent me a warm smile. She knew all the shit that had gone down after finding me crying in the bathroom one night. I'd spilled my guts pretty quickly.

"Who…who's Kelly?"

"She's a friend from work."

"From the bar?"

"Hmmm."

"Oh."

I bit my lip. I hated being so distant, but if I wanted Brittany to be in my life, I needed to try and protect my heart as much as I could. She had too much control over it and seemed to delight in unknowingly driving a pickaxe through it.

"Aren't you at school, Britt?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm, uh…I had a meeting with Figgins."

"Oh, yeah? What did he have to say this time? Trying to ban tots again?"

"No, I got invited to go and visit MIT."

My jaw dropped. "Are you fucking serious?" I squealed, a smile forming on my face without me even attempting to hide it.

She chuckled nervously. "Uh, yeah. I'm a little surprised. They're headhunting me. Cos of my SAT scores. But they've given me an official invitation to visit."

"See? What did I tell you? Genius. Now all the other brilliant minds of America are just realising it."

"Thanks, San. Everyone else is acting really weird, though. Sam has a twin who really doesn't look anything like him. I can't even understand Evan. It's like Rory 2.0. It's like post systematic pressure synopsis."

"Post-traumatic stress disorder?" I supplied.

"Yeah, that."

"How are you, though?" I asked curiously. From our limited texts over the last week, Brittany appeared to be handling the shooting pretty well. Then again, she'd spent most nights curled up with Delly so maybe things weren't completely okay.

"I miss you," she said simply.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. "Yeah, I know, B. I miss you too."

"If…if I visit MIT, would you meet me there?"

I swallowed. "I…I don't think so, Britt."

"Oh, okay." I hated how disappointed she sounded, but it was for the best. For both of us. "Just…don't forget what I said, okay?"

"About what?" I asked.

"I'm coming to find you."

Just like it did when she'd first told me, my heart skipped a beat.

"I think you should focus on where you want to go and what you want to do after graduation, Britt."

"You…you don't want me to find you?"

_Goddamn. She's pulling me in._

"You know that's not true," I said softly. "But you need to decide on your future for _you_ and not anyone else."

"My future is with you," I heard her barely whisper. Her volume increased, "Santana, I know that now more than ever. I saw you for twenty minutes last week and I wish so much that I could see you every day, all day. I feel like…like I'm trying to breathe but I can't get enough air because my heart is only pumping at half speed because you have this hold on it and you won't let go."

Two tears rolled down my cheeks. "Britt," I croaked. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. "I know how that feels, trust me, I do. But you shouldn't be feeling that. Sam should be the one with the hold on your heart, not me."

"Why are you telling me that I can't love you?" Brittany cried desperately.

"That's just it! I'm not! But your actions tell a very different story to your words!" I blurted out. I clamped my hand over my mouth a second too late.

 _Fuck_.

"What…what do you mean? Sam?"

"Yeah," I said. It wasn't a complete lie. It did have to do with him.

"What about Sam? Is it because I'm still with him?"

"Yeah." Kelly took my hand that I hadn't even realised had been clenched into a fist and relaxed it so that she could link our fingers together. It was oddly comforting. I couldn't believe she was still there, listening to an intense conversation that I was having with my ex-girlfriend.

"You're lying," Brittany said firmly.

I sighed. Did I really want to do this? What would happen if I confronted her? Would she brush it off like a silly something that had just happened? Is that what we thought about marriage? Was that what she thought about love?

"When did you marry Sam?" I asked quietly.

There was silence.

_Bingo. You didn't realise that you'd let slip your little secret, did you, Britt? You seem to be forgetting a few things that mean a fuck load to me but apparently mean jack shit to you._

I shut Snixx up in my head.

"You have no idea what that does to me, do you?"

"San, I…" Her voice broke off, but I waited. I wasn't going to let my anger get the better of me, not again. I was going to be mature and let her say her piece.

_You mean try to defend herself._

Snixx needed to shut the fuck up.

"It didn't mean anything."

_Oh, hell no. That is a fucking cop out and you know it._

"Marriage doesn't mean anything to you?" I asked.

"No! Shit! I mean, yes. Yes, of course it does."

"When did you get married, Brittany?" I repeated.

"A few days before Christmas," she mumbled.

Cue fucking splinters. Christmas? Seriously? Did she have any idea what she was doing to me?

"Christmas?" I repeated in a hollow voice. Tears were running freely down my face. "Christmas? So you decided that after two weeks of dating Frog Face that he was husband material? That's great, Britt. That's really fucking stellar. It's nice to know that three years together meant less than two weeks. I see now where I stand with you. And that's okay. If you married him, you must really love him. And I know he makes you happy so I'm happy for you. Mr. and Mrs. Trouty Mouth." I tried to sound genuine, but I doubt even Mr. Schue, the most clueless person living on the planet, would have missed the disdainful sarcasm dripping from my voice.

How had I not even realised that they were married? I'd gone back to Lima to fight for her, albeit in my twisted roundabout way. She'd refused me – I'd accepted that. She'd told me that she really, really liked Sam. Okay, I knew now that she loved him, but she'd married him two months before. Marriage was about love. She'd told me over and over again about how she couldn't wait for our big, white wedding.

"S-Santana, please, just l-listen," Brittany sobbed.

"I'm listening," I said quietly. _Not sure what you could say to make any of this okay._

"It was the end of the world and I was selling everything and I was so sure that we were all going to die. Sam was the only one that believed me. He asked me to be his Mayan queen and I said yes because I thought we were all gonna die! And I couldn't tell you because things were still weird and he was there and he was the only one who believed me."

I'd felt underappreciated for a large part of my life, but what Brittany said just made me feel like I meant absolutely nothing. She felt like the world was going to end (I knew about her Mayan thing; I'd known about it since junior year) and her first thought was to marry fucking Sam Evans? Was I in some kind of alternate universe?

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," I heard myself mutter.

"I know you think it's stupid-"

"No, I don't. And you know I don't like it when you use that word, Brittany. What I'm actually thinking is that you _married_ Sam. Regardless of whether you thought it was for a few days, it's still a lifelong commitment. And you gave that to him. You're supposed to give that to your soulmate, not someone you've dated for two fucking weeks!" My voice started to climb in volume and Kelly squeezed my hand to bring me back down to a simmering state.

"I know! I know! When we woke up the morning after the world was supposed to end, my first thought was that I didn't want to be actually married to Sam. And then Coach Beiste told us that the wedding had been fake because she wasn't actually allowed to marry people. So the whole thing wasn't real!"

I stayed silent for a few long moments. I tried to keep my anger down, tried _really_ hard to see things from Brittany's point of view, to try and make sense of it. Tried to see how she thought it would be okay. But I couldn't.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Brittany. I can't…" I whispered.

"No, no, San. Don't say that, please! Please! I love you and I want you. I want to marry you for real one day with everything that we talked about."

"I wanted that too. You have no idea how much. But it was supposed to only be us. Fake or not, you married someone else. How…how would you feel if I'd done that to you?"

Her silence proved to me that she hadn't thought of it like that.

"Please don't say we're over," she whispered.

It broke my heart to even entertain the thought. If the last two months had taught me anything, it was that a life without Brittany hurt even worse than a life with Brittany, knowing that she had the capacity – and tendency – to continually hurt me.

But…a life without Brittany…that wasn't a life. Not for me. Kelly understood that and I understood that.

"Unfortunately, I don't know how to not have you in my life," I said in a cracked voice. The threat of full on crying was getting the better of me. "I c-can't live without you, Brittany, and sometimes I hate that I can't because you hurt me so much and you don't even realise it. But because I'll always love you most, I let you do it over and over again."

"No, Santana, I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted to."

"But you do!" I eventually cried, the dams breaking. "And I don't even know if my heart will ever be properly whole again because you've broken it so many times."

"What do I do to make it right?" Brittany begged.

"I…don't know if you can, Britt," I whispered.

"It's not… Is it because someone else can?"

The fear in her voice made my shattered heart ache. "No, if anyone can, it would be you."

"Then I will. I'm going to fix it for you, Santana. I'm going to make you love me again, like you did before."

"Brittany, that's not the problem. My feelings haven't changed. That's why this hurts so much. I just don't know if I could trust you with my heart. I don't know if I can trust you to even try to rebuild it without breaking it again."

"But…can I try?"

I sighed and pulled my bare legs up to my chest, resting my chin on my knees. "Graduate first, Britt. Okay? And don't choose New York or MIT or Yale or anything because it's close to me. I really want – no, I _need_ – you to choose somewhere for _you_. For only you. The reason why you can hurt me so badly, why I was able to hurt you so badly in high school is because we're so completely entwined with each other."

"But-but that's what I want. I want to be entwined with you. Like our own Celtic knot."

I cracked a very small smile at the memory of Brittany's fascination with creating a Celtic knot out of our bodies. She'd spent an entire week of summer vacation before senior year trying to create the perfect knot.

"It's not healthy for us to be so completely tied to each other. This year has been really hard on both of us and there were probably things that I could've done better and things that you could've done…or not done, but we can't change the past. If you want to try and fix my heart, I need you to find something that you really enjoy doing, something that you could see yourself doing for a really long time after college and that's what you need to go and study. No matter where it is. If you want to try and I want to try, then we can always make it work."

"I-"

"Hang on. Just hear me out. I don't want you to say or do anything now. I want you to spend some time by yourself and really think about what you want. Once you've made a decision, you can look at your options. When you have a concrete plan and a college and everything, then we can talk about trying to fix us. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Okay, good. Remember, think about what you want, not about what you think I want or anybody else. This is all about you, Brittany."

"Okay."

I nodded to myself, taking the few precious moments of silence to compose myself. My shattered heart was pounding and I was almost sure that I could feel the jagged shards piercing at my skin with every loud thud.

"San?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can I still text you and call you?"

"Yeah, B. You can."

* * *

Brittany and I had ended the call shortly after and I'd curled into Kelly and cried for a really long time. I think Rachel had come in my room and sat at the end of my bed, but I was completely inside my head to even notice, thinking about my history with Brittany and everything that I felt for her. And possibly even worse, what the future could hold for us. I hated that I had hope. Hope meant that she could hurt me. Hope meant that I would wait every day for her decision.

Kelly and Rachel were speaking in hushed tones over me and I think that I eventually cried myself to sleep. When I woke up, it was dark outside and I sat up abruptly.

"Hey, hey, easy," Kelly said soothingly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I rolled over and took a deep breath. I hated crying myself to sleep. My face always felt so dry and cracked. And fuck, my eyes hurt. I blinked a few times and when I felt like I could open them without severe discomfort, I looked up at Kelly.

"What time is it?" Oh, lovely. I sounded like a fucking senior citizen who'd smoke fifty a day her entire life.

"It's about six. I was going to wait to ask you if you wanted me to get Lola and Hilary to cover for us tonight."

I rolled onto my back. "No. I need to keep busy and keep my mind from straying."

"To her."

I didn't even bother answering her.

"I knew it was a long shot."

"What was?" I asked, closing my eyes.

"You."

"Why?"

"Because I'm that irritating girl that just gets in the way of true love. At the end, the soulmates always end up together. I knew it was a long shot. But still, I'm glad I got my little storyline with you."

I opened my eyes and looked at her for a while. "I'm sorry if I led you on. I didn't mean to."

"I know; you were trying to move on from the love of your life. And if I helped in any way, then I'm glad. Even if I don't get to be with you, I'm still glad I met you, Santana."

I sat up and shuffled next to Kelly. I rested my head on her shoulder. "I swear, if I'd ever got a clean break from her, I would be kicking myself for not taking a real chance with you. You're so amazing, Kelly, and I wish so much that we could've been what you wished us to be."

"You can't choose who your soul entwines with," she murmured, taking my hand and twisting our fingers together. "It's Fate."

I didn't respond, but I think she knew I agreed with her. Eventually, I did speak, "I don't know how I can thank you."

"Don't forget about me," she said simply. "I may not be someone that could call you her girlfriend, but I'd still like to be able to call you a friend."

I lifted my head. "You think we can do that?"

"Well, I'm willing to try it if you are."

I settled back onto her shoulder. "I think I'd like to try."

* * *

 _And I'm so glad I met you._  
It makes me wanna go away  
Till you think it's over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of me wants to let this story run away with itself. After that chapter, all I want is for Brittany to be the one to chase Santana and make her believe that she's worth it, that they're worth it…  
> This is from Santana's point of view. I'm showcasing her hurt as I perceive it. I know it's probably coming across that I'm painting Brittany as the villain and that Santana is the wronged angel who didn't do anything wrong but fall in love with her best friend. We all know that she played a big role in creating their struggle, but in this season, I feel like Brittany is at fault. Well, technically, that award would go to the writers because they have no fucking clue how to develop a character properly.  
> Those lyrics at the end are from the song Where Do We Go From Here by Filter. I thought it was pretty apt for the chapter.


	8. Dancing On My Own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that I would combine Lights Out and Wonder-ful. Purely because there was one episode sort of about Santana and pretty much no Brittany. The flashback in here is just an opinion on how they first met…

I pulled the loft door open and immediately rolled my eyes at being greeted by a far too eager-looking Hummelberry. The temptation to mess with them was just too great to ignore. I didn't say anything, just headed to my room.

_3…2…1._

"Santana!"

_Too easy._

"Berry?" I replied, pulling off my top and dropping it on the floor.

"Oh! Excuse me. I wasn't aware that you were undressing," Rachel stammered.

I looked down at my black sports bra and shorts. "Oh, honey. If you think this is me undressed, I haven't been doing a good job of making you insanely uncomfortable with my proclivity to parade my smoking hot ass around for you to envy."

Rachel frowned. "I'm extremely comfortable with my body, Santana."

"Oh, yeah, totally. So much that you had a complete makeover four months after moving to New York. Don't get me wrong, this new NY Rachel is way more appealing than Lima Rachel. I can actually stomach talking to you without a million different critiques about your outfits popping into my head. I might go so far as to say that you are bordering attractive."

"Thanks?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

"Always a pleasure," I said with a winning smile.

"So, how was it?" she asked, the bouncy Rachel that I generally evaded jumping front and centre again.

"How was what?" I feigned disinterest.

"Haha. Seriously, how was it?"

"Berry, enunciate. What are you talking about?"

"Your dance class!" she said in exasperation.

I grinned to myself. She really took so much fun out of it by being too easy to rile up.

_Wanky._

"What dance class?"

"Santana Diabla Lopez! Stop messing around! Come on, you've finally found something that you're passionate about, something to work towards."

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel!" I retorted, glaring at him. "Do not middle name me. I told you that in the greatest of confidence."

"You were drunk," he said flatly.

"Exactly. It's an unspoken rule that anything said whilst intoxicated is inadmissible as fact."

"Right. Like I'm going to overlook the opportunity to dish out a spoon of your own medicine."

"I'll bring the sugar!" Rachel trilled.

"Seriously? You're taking one of Porcelain's more creative insults and turning it into a Julie Andrews special?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow.

"Julie Andrews is a silver screen legend," she defended.

"No doubt. Any ginger who can pull of being a magical nanny, a nun, a cross-dressing cross dresser and a queen flawlessly deserves accolades upon accolades. Her awesomeness does not require validation from one Rachel Berry."

"So the class went well?" Kurt asked, changing the subject.

"Wouldn't know. I decided to forego mingling with the common folk with less talent than I have in my pinkie finger in favour of some delicious sexy times with a friendly bartender."

"Bullshit," Kurt said immediately.

"Really?" I leaned against my dresser. "Shall I paint a picture for you? I'm sure it will titillate your taste buds."

"Gross." He pulled a face. "No, I called bullshit because Kelly showed up here an hour ago wanting to see you before she went to work."

I pulled my mouth to one side. Damn. Game was up. "Okay. You win, Lady. I shall have to have words with Kelly about playing on my team."

"I thought she already did?" Rachel asked in confusion.

"Oh, Berry," I said sweetly. "My humour is so lost on you."

* * *

I lay in bed later that night and thought about why I'd decided to go to the dance class at NYADA. It wasn't like I had any intention of going there. That place definitely wasn't for me. Or more accurately, I wasn't for it. I was too rough, too brash and not controlled enough.

But being in a studio again and standing at that bar…I had to admit that I'd felt completely comfortable for the first time since arriving in New York. The fact that I hadn't had a plan had been weighing on my mind, especially of late, since the Glee kids back at McKinley were all abuzz with their graduation plans. Like I needed another reminder of how I'd flushed my college scholarship down the proverbial shithole. Britt understood and I loved her for that. Everybody else, not so much. My mom got it, to a point, but she had been bugging me about what I was doing, about what my plan was. At least now I had something to write home about. Most other people couldn't understand how I'd been able to just throw it all away.

They didn't understand how easy it was when you hated every single day. Louisville had lost me Britt. Well, if I was being brutally honest, _I'd_ lost Britt. I'd lost a lot of my drive, my passion. _Mami_ had seen that all the times I'd been home just before I dropped out but hadn't said anything. I wonder if anything would have been different if she had.

I sighed and rolled over, hugging Jennifer to me. She was a comfort, okay? Especially since my relationships with Brittany and Kelly were so far past complicated that I didn't even know when I'd get any kind of physical comfort again.

My mind went back to a phone conversation that I'd had the night of the gala, once I'd got home.

* * *

" _Britt, it was so amazing. The dress and just picturing being on that stage for a few minutes, performing. It was perfect."_

" _You really still love dance that much?" Brittany asked._

" _Well, yeah. You think it's pointless, don't you?"_

" _Did I say that? I think that you hid so much of yourself in high school that rediscoveries like this are just the beginning. Your focus was on the wrong things for a while, but if you feel the need to dance again, then you should. Like proper dancing. Not your bar dancing and cage dancing. Even though that's super hot and I'd give anything to see you do that."_

" _Britt," I warned._

" _I know, I know. Just saying, though." She was smirking, I could tell. I rolled my eyes. "Look, you said that NYADA has evening classes, right? Why don't you look into that?"_

" _Why? Britt, I'll never be as good as you, but I'm still better than some half-assed, overweight saps chasing an unattainable dream."_

" _Aren't all dreams a little unattainable?" she mused. "That's kinda why they're dreams, right?"_

_I sighed. "Anyone ever tell you that you're kinda a genius?"_

" _I hear it from time to time," she teased. "Seriously, San. Baby steps. Find the core of who you are again. Rediscover that passion completely, not half-heartedly. You'll never reach the heights that I know you can if you don't start at the beginning again."_

" _The beginning, huh?"_

" _Yup."_

" _How about I give myself a little credit and go for intermediate?" I suggested._

" _Yeah, I think you could manage that," she agreed. "As long as you go in there knowing that this is about you finding yourself again. Find that sassy seven-year-old that insulted me the first day of ballet class."_

" _Oh my God," I groaned. "Britt, I'm pretty sure I've apologised a gazillion times for that over the years. You're not still upset about that, are you?"_

_Brittany giggled. "Of course not. I just like reminding you that you only managed one insult before I had you totally whipped."_

_My mouth dropped open. "Whipped? A little presumptuous there, aren't you?"_

" _Nope," she replied. "Don't you remember?"_

" _Of course I do," I said softly. I could never forget the day I'd met the love of my life. Granted, it had taken me a few years to realise it, but still. She'd made a huge impression on me back at the tender age of seven._

" _I was late and tripped as I came into the room," Brittany began. "And you started laughing at me and said that dancers with two left feet aren't dancers."_

" _And that the circus was in town next week if you were interested in joining," I finished quietly. I winced. Even as a seven-year-old, my repertoire had been biting._

_Brittany laughed. "I can still remember the look on your face when I asked if you wanted to come with me."_

_I smiled fondly. "I couldn't believe that you were so excited about something that was meant to be condescending."_

" _Yeah, well, I liked you fire back then already. And I made a pretty good choice. It's always kept me warm."_

" _Twelve years later," I murmured._

" _Twelve amazing years," Brittany added firmly._

" _Amazing? Not sure all those years were amazing, Britt. I mean, this year alone-"_

" _There were hard times, sure," she cut in, her voice seriously, "but I knew that you loved me all along, so they've been amazing for me."_

_I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. Brittany's giggle broke the tension._

" _What?" I whispered._

" _Do you remember what you said after I asked you to go with me to the circus?"_

_I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I do."_

_I'd stared at the blonde, freckly, blue-eyed girl with far too much energy for a Saturday morning ballet class, who was smiling at me with unbridled excitement and something had stirred in me. I'd opened my mouth to deliver another bout of choice words, but they'd stuck in my throat. She'd cocked her head curiously and I'd felt a small smile forming on my face. I'd had no control over it._

" _I asked you if you wanted to share the barre with me," I said._

" _And so began a beautiful friendship," Brittany finished._

" _Yeah." A friendship. A friendship that had become so much more. Something that meant everything to me._

* * *

I woke up with a start. For a second, it was like I was back in Lima, in Brittany's bed, with her arms around me. I never slept better than I did wrapped up in her arms.

I swallowed as the reality settled in. No Lima, no Brittany's bedroom and no Brittany. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. It was still early, but I suddenly wasn't tired. I grabbed my phone and saw that Kelly had texted me a few minutes ago. She'd just finished up with work. I sent a reply.

_Wanna meet for coffee?_

I got out of bed and quickly dressed. I smiled at her positive response and headed out, tugging my jacket around me against the crisp five am morning. I turned into a diner that we often stopped off at after work and slid into the booth opposite Kelly.

"Morning, sunshine," she greeted. "Sleep well?"

"Meh. It was okay. Dreams were weird."

"Good weird or bad weird?"

I arched an eyebrow. "Is there ever really a good weird?"

"Hmmm, valid point. So, how was your class?"

"It was…good," I said, a small smile creeping onto my face. "It was really good."

"Awesome," Kelly replied. "I'm really glad that you decided to go after your dream, Snixx."

"I think you're more glad that I decided to continue doing both jobs as well as taking night dance classes."

Kelly looked affronted. " _Moi_? I have no idea what you mean. I mean, watching you shake your ass on a bar or practically fucking a cage has no effect on me. None, whatsoever."

We both chuckled. I knew that Kelly was still into me, and I guess I was too, a little. But after everything that had happened with Britt, and with the possibility of us reuniting after graduation… I couldn't consciously go ahead and start something with Kelly when the 'what if' with Brittany was still so wide open.

Luckily, Kelly got that and she was happy to be my friend until things changed.

"So, how's your girl?" she asked.

I sucked my lips in. "She's not my girl, Kelly."

"Okay, Snixx," she chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that."

I huffed. "She's in Mass this week, looking around MIT."

"Whoa, that's impressive."

I smiled. "Yeah, well. She's a genius. Everybody thought she was just a dumb blonde and she's proving them all wrong."

"Spoken like a proud girlfriend."

"Kelly," I said in a warning tone. "Don't."

She arched an eyebrow. "And for how long are you two going to dance around each other?"

"It's complicated," I muttered.

"Yeah, I know you guys have issues."

"It's not just that. If MIT want her, then she needs to make that decision on her own. And I'll support whatever she chooses."

"And what if she chooses MIT? Or another college that isn't in New York? That's four years apart, Santana. Are you going to wait for her?"

I sighed. This was the dilemma that I'd been sitting with since our big phone call. Would I be able to let go when the moment came? Would I realistically be able to sit around for four years and wait for her? Knowing that I'd encourage her to live her life to the fullest and entertain the possibility that she could, once again, find someone else to make her happy because I wouldn't be there.

Could I do that?

I hated that I couldn't find it in myself to say yes.

* * *

Kurt was going back to Lima for his dad. We sent our well wishes, but both Rachel and I could tell that he was super worried. Hell, I'd be too. Cancer was no fucking joke.

Without her gay pillar of support – the boy gay, not the girl gay – Rachel was losing it. And I was getting ever closer to committing Berrycide.

"Christ, Rachel! Will you calm the fuck down? Don't you see that she's messing with you?! After all your hard work – _your_ hard work – are you just going to let some blonde has-been walk all over you?"

Rachel's mouth fell open and I just arched an eyebrow.

"Now, if you're done messing with my chi, I have a _Lost Girl_ marathon to get back to."

"What's _Lost Girl_?" Rachel asked with interest, planting herself down next to me.

I pressed pause again and looked at her pointedly. "It's a super hot Canadian TV show about a bisexual succubus who has super hot lesbian sex with a super hot doctor who can't stop saying super hot scientific words in bed."

"Sounds super hot," Rachel said dryly.

"Oh, you caught that, did you?" I retorted. "Berry, I hereby give you permission to watch the awesomeness of Doccubus with me, but you are forbidden to ruin my day with your incessant running commentary about how certain things are not possible for whatever reason you've fabricated. Got it?"

"But there is realistically no way that those two girls would ever have ended up in that show-"

"I said, got it?" I cut in, my eyes flashing. "Besides, that show ends tonight so you won't be subjected to watching it with me."

She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. "Fine," she grumbled. "You need to find shows with better writers."

I shrugged. "Who says I watch it for the writers? Have you _seen_ those girls?"

"You really are incorrigible."

"Thank you," I quipped, pressing play.

* * *

"Santanaaaaaaaa!"

I groaned. "What?"

She came bounding into my room, her eyes lit up. I looked at her expectantly.

"I passed my midterm! Cassandra totally did a one-eighty on me. She was actually _so_ nice."

"Uh huh," I replied, not believing it for a second. Leopards and spots.

"Regardless of your inability to see the good in people, the fact remains that I have passed my midterm and can fully focus on my call back."

"Woop dee fucking do," I muttered. "And for the record, I see what everybody else refuses to see in people. Remember the wax model?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But you have to celebrate with me!"

I sighed. "I will consent under one condition."

"Yes, yes, there will be alcohol!"

"Excellent."

We ended up staying in, watching _MythBusters_ and eating far too many pints of our patent-pending vodka ice cream.

"Is the best of both worlds!" Rachel screeched. "Cos you're eating _and_ drinking."

"And most obvious comment of the day goes to…" I mumbled, holding my half-finished pint (I think it was my third) close to my chest.

Rachel started dancing around the room and somehow managed to get me to join her. I blamed the vodka. Or the ice cream. Whatever. We started singing random songs from glee club and had just started _We Found Love_ when Rachel's phone started ringing.

"Kuuuuurt!" she shrieked in greeting.

I winced.

"Nooo," she said. "I'm not drunk. Santana is, though."

"Not!" I yelled. "At least not as much as you, Berry."

She started laughing and fell into me.

"Ow, fuck, Rachel!" I landed on the ground with her on top of me.

"What is going on?" I heard Kurt ask.

"Ha! I topped Santana!" Rachel cheered.

I closed my eyes and dropped my head onto the floor. The reason why I got drunk with Berry was because I would most likely smother her in her sleep if I had to endure drunk Rachel sober. I grabbed the phone from her.

"Porcelain, do not be surprised if you come home to find a Berry smoothie littering the loft," I snapped. "On a happier note, how's your dad doing?"

"Great!" Kurt enthused. "He's taking this whole new lease on life thing really seriously."

"Is he going to join glee club?" Rachel wanted to know.

"Who, Kurt?" I asked, frowning up at her. Fuck, she was heavy. I groaned as I tried to shift her off.

"What is going on?" Kurt asked.

"We're celebrating because Berry beat the evil dancing bitch instructor and now she's seemingly finding me comfortable as a bed. Berry, get off!"

"Wanky," she mumbled.

My eyes went wide.

"Did I just hear-"

"Yes," I whispered. "Oh, God, what have I done? I've corrupted Rachel Berry!"

"Okay, you two are completely incoherent so I'll talk to you when you're hung over. That's way more fun. Tell Rachel I say congrats and don't have sex in my bed. Bye!"

"I wanna speak to Kurt," Rachel protested.

I finally got her off me and handed her the phone.

"Kurt! I have to tell you everything! She sang Stevie Wonder! And although it wasn't nearly as good as one of my performances, it was fairly acceptable for NYADA standards."

I chuckled and sat back on the couch with my melting vodka ice cream as Rachel chatted away, not even realising that the call had ended.

"Kurt says bye," she reported, grabbing her own ice cream and falling onto the couch next to me.

"I heard," I replied, my eyes glued to the screen. They were trying to explode a bottle of Coke inside a car. Like, what the fuck. But I couldn't stop watching.

"You know something?" Rachel said after a while, her voice only slightly slurry.

"I know many things, Berry," I replied.

"But you don't know this," she insisted.

"Then, by all means, enlighten me."

"You know Cassandra? Cassie July?"

"I believe you've mentioned her once or twice."

"She's like the blonde you."

I blinked in surprise and looked at her. "A blonde me?"

"Well, she's mean and sexy and dances and sings really well and has _insane_ abs and slept with my almost boyfriend. Just like you!"

I burst out laughing, more from the fact that she was totally right.

"I bet you guys would have insane angry lesbian sex," she mumbled.

That just made me laugh even harder. I may have been drunk, but I never passed up an opportunity to tease the shit out of Rachel.

"You’ve been thinking about me having sex with your dance teacher, Rach?"

"What? No, no, no. No, I haven't. No, no, no." She shook her head fervently.

"Well, it's definitely an intriguing thought," I mused.

"No, no thoughts. What?"

"Let's see, there's the piano. Oh, so many ways I could fuck her on a piano. Not to mention all the barres. And those window seats on the sides. Hmmm…"

"No, no, stop! I didn't mean it! I take it back!"

"You couldn't picture it, Rach? You walking in after your call back to the sight of me and Cassandra going sixty-nine on the dance floor?"

Rachel cried out in exasperation and ran to her room. I put down my ice cream and followed her. "Do you think I should invite her over for dinner, Rach?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dunno why I had the sudden epiphany of Cassandra and Santana lol :) But now that I have…can I just say super hot? :p


	9. Nothing Else Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the NSFW chapter ;)

"What I'm about to tell you is going to change everything, Santana."

I swallowed and wringing my hands just didn't seem enough for all the nerves that were fluttering around in my stomach. Screw that, through my entire fucking body.

"O-okay," I said softly, not breaking our intense eye lock.

She was biting the inside of her cheek. I could tell. Shit. That meant this was big. She only did that when she was really nervous.

"Britt, please just tell me," I whispered. If it was bad news, I couldn't bare prolonging the torture anymore.

"I got early admission to MIT," she said eventually. "They want me there next week."

I smiled, relieved. "Britt, that is so unbelievably amazing! See, what did I tell you? Genius."

She looked down bashfully. "You've always been the only one who thought that," she said quietly.

"Well, now the rest of the world gets to see your awesomeness," I said proudly, standing up and taking her hands.

I pulled her to her feet and into a tight hug. I was really glad that she was going after what she wanted, something that was just for her.

"The original unicorn," I murmured into her shoulder. "MIT isn't going to know what hit them."

She pulled back. "Why would I hit them?" she asked, doing that adorable furrow of her brows.

"Figure of speech, Britt-Britt."

"Okay."

"We should celebrate!" I said suddenly, turning and grabbing my bag. "Oh my God! This is huge! Come on, I'll treat you to Breadstix and ice cream in the park."

"San."

I paused at her tone and slowly turned back to face her.

"Yeah?"

"I broke up with Sam."

I held my breath. "I know."

"Did Lord Tubbington tell you?"

I couldn't help but crack a small smile. "Uh, no. Sam actually called me. He was worried about you."

She sat on her bed. "I haven't been fair to him," she admitted.

I sat a respectful distance from her on the bed and rested my hands in my lap. "Maybe. But he was still here for you."

"What, when you weren't?" Brittany asked, looking at me curiously. "Do you really think that, Santana?"

I lifted a shoulder in a shrug and averted her gaze. "It's true, though. He was here. He was here for you when I was off messing around."

She frowned. "Why do you always do that?"

I lifted my eyes to hers. "Do what?"

"Act like your dreams are worth nothing. For the last few weeks, you've been telling me that I need to focus on my dream and what I want. I know you've started dancing again, but what is it that you want, San?"

_You._

But I didn't say it. I couldn't. Not when she'd taken such a huge step for herself. I guess that's what they say about unconditional love. No matter the condition, I will always love Brittany the most.

"I want to dance," I told her. "And I want to perform if I get to that stage. But for right now, I'm focused on dance. I met with an off-Broadway choreographer yesterday. He seemed pretty interested in working with me on a new project that he has planned."

Sure, I'd told Trouty that I was meeting a hot choreographer. I'd just neglected to mention how very gay he was.

"See?" She moved closer to me and my heart started beating just that bit faster. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

I flashed a quick smile. Maybe it was because we were in Britt's bedroom. Maybe that's why I was so nervous. I mean, I was sitting on the very same bed where we…

_Made love._

I swallowed, trying to focus on the present and not remember how perfect that night had been. It only made me want to experience it again and again.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asked, her eyes flickering over my face.

"Totally," I said in what came out a confident tone but definitely didn't match what my face said.

"Santana, will you ever learn not to lie to me?" She wasn't mad. Just stating a fact. "I know when you're lying."

I sighed. "I know."

"So what's going on? You haven't even said anything about the fact that I broke up with Sam."

"Well, I mean, I don't have a say in your relationships, Britt. If you feel that breaking up with him was the right thing for you two, then I'll always support you."

"For any other reason than me wanting to break up with him?" she pressed.

_Goddamn. I hate that she knows me so well._

"It…doesn't matter."

"Yes. Yes, it does, Santana. You can't say that it doesn't." She was sitting right next to me, her body turned towards me. She grabbed my hands. "I should have broken up with Sam months ago. In the back of my mind, I always knew that he was a comfort, but that was it."

I winced inwardly, but I think some of it showed on my face. I hated the fact that she'd even needed comfort in the first place. And I knew that I was to blame.

"Can I show you something?" she whispered.

I nodded, keeping my head down. I needed to keep a lid on my damn emotions. My girl was moving on in the world. She was going to MI-fucking-T and I had to accept that. I'd told her that she needed to find herself outside of us, outside of McKinley and she had. I couldn't turn around and go back on what I said when she'd been the one to suggest the very thing that I wanted.

I wanted Brittany.

Goddammit, I wanted her. I wanted everything again. Only this time, it would be so much more. We'd both grown as people and I wanted to experience this new Brittany as my girlfriend.

And it killed me that I couldn't.

Or wouldn't.

"Here." She handed me a piece of white paper.

The familiarity of her crayons made me smile. She'd always drawn me the best pictures. My eyes narrowed at the heading at the top of the page.

_Brittany S. Pierce's love division chart_

"Britt, what is this?" I asked, looking at her.

She just smiled at me. "Just look, San."

I held her gaze for a few more moments before returning it to the chart in my hands. It was a bar graph, super colourful as was Brittany's way. There were six different coloured bars drawn vertically. She had a list of percentages on the left-hand side and underneath each coloured bar was a picture of someone. Or someones. Each had a name under the picture. The first was _Family_. I smiled as I easily recognised Juliana, Delly and Ian. My second family. The bar went up to forty-five percent.

_Okay…that doesn't leave much for anyone else._

I moved onto the next bar. _Lord Tubbington._ Tubbs had scored a whopping forty percent. Not too shabby for my favourite oversized feline. The next was a group of people. I knew who they were before even reading the name. _Glee Club_. They had ten percent.

_Remaining five percent._

That went to one Sam Evans. Great. I swallowed my hurt, but it gradually turned to confusion as the very next bar had another picture of Sam with the bar coloured up to ten percent. I knew she had a method, but I had to be honest and admit that I had no idea what it meant.

The final picture was undoubtedly me. She'd drawn a little heart next to my face and my name had been written in all her favourite colours. My eyes went wide as I saw the bar climb up the page to ninety percent.

And suddenly it made sense. It was so perfectly Brittany that I couldn't understand how I hadn't seen it before.

"Britt…" I croaked, not even sure what to say.

"I drew this after the shooting," she said quietly. "It helped me put some things into perspective. And I think it's pretty clear where my perspective lies."

"But…" I barely whispered, my finger running down the red bar. My favourite colour. And the colour of love. Of our love.

"I thought really hard about how to measure it out. Since Lord Tubbington is part of my family, I guess that would make it eight-five percent for them, but as much as I love my family, I'll always love you more."

Two tears ran down my cheeks. Her hands came to cup my face and turn it towards her. My watery eyes met hers and she used her thumbs to brush away the tears.

"Don't cry," she whispered. "I want you to keep that, okay?"

I just nodded and pulled the drawing to my chest. It had just become my most treasured possession. Yes, even greater than my eyeliner pencil. Her hands dropped from my face.

"Um, I'm gonna go to the bathroom," I mumbled, hurriedly wiping my face. I probably looked a mess.

"You'll always look beautiful to me," Brittany murmured.

I paused. Should I be surprised that she knew what I was thinking? Slowly, I stood up from the bed, gripping Brittany's love chart. I paused by my bag, folding it carefully and slipping it inside. My fingertips lingered for a second longer before I rose again and headed out of Britt's room to the bathroom next door.

I closed the door and looked at myself in the mirror. Delightful. Smudged mascara, puffy eyes, red cheeks. So attractive. I ran the water and proceeded to clean myself up. If we were going to dinner at Breadstix, I certainly didn't want to showcase that I'd been crying. Even if the reason was an amazing one.

I paused and stared into my dark eyes. I wondered if she was going to ask me. Part of me knew that she already knew what my answer would be.

* * *

I took a breath before stepping back into Brittany's room.

"Britt, ready to head out to Breadstix?" I asked brightly.

"I don't want to go to Breadstix, Santana," she replied, giving me a look that I knew all too well.

"Brittany," I said quietly, walking to her dresser. I heard the door close behind me and the familiar sound of her turning the lock. "What are you doing?"

"You know what I'm doing, Santana," she said in a low voice. I could feel her stepping closer to me. "And I know that you won't stop me."

God, I hated how right she was.

I turned around and met her eyes. She smiled and closed the space between our bodies. She was so close that I could see the grooves in her lips. I knew those grooves by heart.

"How much, San?" she whispered.

I swallowed and I suddenly felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. "One hundred percent," I whispered back.

"I'm creeping up to ninety-five pretty quickly," she responded, her breath fluttering over my face and making my toes curl deliciously.

Nothing could _ever_ beat the effect that Brittany had on my body.

"Wait," I whispered, resting my hand on her stomach. "Britt, we can't just do this again. I…I can't make love to you and then walk away like nothing happened."

She frowned and pulled back a little to look at me fully. "You really think I'd do that?"

I immediately felt like shit. "No, that's not what I meant."

"Let me remind you of a little something that I told you two years ago, Santana Lopez. I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else in this world. All I know about you and I is that because of that, I think that anything is possible."

I couldn’t help but lean in and kiss her after that. I'd wanted to the very same thing when she'd told me in front of our lockers after losing Nationals. But, you know, buried in the closet and whatnot. She smiled into the kiss and her hands rested on my waist. It was soft, our lips barely moving. But it was perfect.

I broke away and leaned my head against hers. "I love you too, Britt. But," I swallowed, "I'm scared."

"Don't be scared," she whispered, brushing her lips against my cheek. "If we're together, we can do anything."

I met her beautiful blue eyes. "You really believe that?"

She smiled and nodded. "With my whole heart. All one hundred percent."

I let her kiss me and easily manoeuvre my lips apart. I was putty in her arms. Always had been. And probably always would be. At that moment, as Britt wrapped her arms around me and completely overwhelmed me with desire, I didn't want to be anywhere but with her. No matter what, I couldn't give up. With startling clarity, it hit me.

There could _never_ be anyone else.

My fingers trailed up her arms and linked around her neck. Her tongue brushed my bottom lip and eased effortlessly inside my mouth. I couldn't stifle the strangled moan that caught in my throat at the insanely amazing feeling of her tongue moving against mine. There was pretty much only one thing that beat it and I was pretty sure we'd be there in roughly fifteen minutes.

My hands pulled at the scarf loosely tied around her neck. Once it dropped to the floor, I undid her ponytail. I loved running my fingers through her hair. Her hands moved from my waist to my back and down to my ass. That was one thing my girl really appreciated. And I loved it. Her capable hands kneaded the covered skin, but I could almost feel it as though I was naked. I pulled back from the kiss and breathed heavily. After two deep breaths, Brittany leaned in again. I squeaked in surprise but didn't stop her. Our tongues met eagerly once again. I dropped my hands from her hair and gripped the bottom her shirt, roughly pulling it up. Our lips left each other briefly as the purple material flew over her head, and then we were kissing again. The urgency I'd demonstrated taking her shirt off had stoked the fire brewing between us. The flames were steadily climbing, as was the temperature. She was fully groping me and my hips started rolling into her. It was a dance we'd done so often.

My favourite dance.

My hands rested on her back, my insides tingling at the touch of her naked skin. I pressed my hands flat against her back and pulled her even closer to me, my palms thudding with her heartbeat. I'd always loved feeling our hearts beating so forcefully when we were together. It was like being with each other was almost too much to handle.

Almost.

But at the same time, never enough.

My hands slipped underneath her loose pants and I generously squeezed her ass, moaning into her mouth as I felt her wearing a thong.

Brittany in a thong – only a thong (something I've seen many, many times) – was quite possibly the sexiest thing in the world. And I'm talking about the sexiest goddamn woman in the world here.

She jutted her hips into me, but my dress was preventing any kind of real friction. Considering my affinity for short dresses, Brittany had a workaround lined up. Her thigh slipped between mine and hiked up, pressing against my rapidly soaking underwear.

"Oh my God," I breathed, forced to break our kiss.

"You always call me that," she teased in an equally breathless voice. "Given the circumstances, though, I'll allow it."

I giggled – blame Britt – and pulled off my annoying pendant before joining our lips again. She pressed me against her dresser, rattling everything on top, but neither of us cared. Her thigh was creating such incredible friction and I moved against it without abandon. She had great muscle control that she knew exactly when to flex and clench to make me dizzy with pleasure. The moan tore from my mouth as my head dropped back. God, I was so embarrassingly close already. But it was Britt. Go figure. She'd once made me come just by kissing me. No word of a lie.

Her lips were on my neck, sucking and biting at my pulse point. She knew it drove me crazy. I was humping her leg like a teenage boy, but I couldn't stop. It just felt _so_ fucking good.

"Ooooh," I moaned, loving how Brittany roughly hiked up my dress so that she could hold me higher up her body.

"Holyyy fuck!" I cried as her hipbone met my clit. Hard.

My legs wrapped around her waist and my hips didn't stop moving. Jesus, nothing could ever feel as good as Brittany. My arms were wrapped around her shoulders and I was kissing her furiously, both of us rocking rhythmically and naturally against each other.

I could feel it. It built up a lot quicker than I'd planned, but once it was ready, I had no control over it. I buried my face in her neck as my hips locked against hers and the best kind of pleasure washed through my body. My breathing was heavy, as was hers, but neither of us moved. I inhaled the scent that was unmistakably Brittany and felt a lovely aftershock ripple through me and make me shudder down to my toes.

I hummed and she giggled. I felt her lips against my neck and I just snuggled into her. One of her hands held me securely and the other rested on my ass. She turned us around and I knew we were headed for her bed. She lay me down so gently – have I mentioned how perfect she is? – and I just watched her take my boots off.

I looked quite a sight with my dress bunched up at my hips, my black thong on full display. Correction – my black _soaked_ thong. Brittany grinned proudly as she stared at it. I rolled my eyes but smiled back up at her. Once my boots were off, I used my legs to catch her waist and pull her onto me. She landed with an _oof_ and I giggled. Brittany lifted her head to meet my eyes and leaned in for a short but sweet kiss.

"You are the most beautiful girl in the world," she whispered, tracing a finger down the side of my face.

I flushed – something pretty much only she had ever gotten me to do – and leaned into her hand.

"Next to you, I'm an ugly duckling," I replied with a loving smile.

She kissed me. "I'd still have you next to me, duckling or not. But ducklings are totally cute. Like, there's no such thing as an ugly duckling. Have you ever seen an ugly duckling? I haven't and I've seen a _lot_ of ducklings."

I laughed heartily. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed Britt's very unique pillow talk. Goddamn if it didn't skyrocket her cute factor, though.

"You, Miss Pierce, are so wonderful."

It was her turn to blush and she leaned down to kiss my neck, presumably on the hickey that was most likely colouring up my skin. My fingers trailed softly up and down her naked back and I delighted in the small shivers than I felt run through her body. After a few minutes of just feeling each other, my hands dipped beneath the waistband of her pants and my thumbs hooked into her thong, tugging at it slightly.

"Frisky, San," she teased from my neck, nipping at the skin to elicit a yelp from me. She pulled back and gave me a languid kiss before pushing herself up and holding my gaze as she pushed her pants down.

I inhaled sharply. There she was, in just her underwear, looking so fucking gorgeous. God, how had I managed to get lucky enough to have this girl love _me_?

I sat up and pressed my lips to her stomach. I felt her abs twitch beneath my lips and it made me smile. My hands had fun with her muscular legs, slowly but surely turning them to mush. I love making her melt for me the same way I melted for her. Her hands started resting on my shoulders, but as my kisses ventured higher and higher, so did her hands, until they were embedded in my hair, holding me to her chest.

My hands left her legs temporarily to unclasp Britt's bra. I pulled back and dropped it, my eyes drinking in the most perfect breasts in existence (Britt argued that mine were. We agreed to disagree). I coaxed her hips forward and she straddled me, bringing her breasts to the perfect height for me to have my fun. I took the left nipple gently between my teeth while my right hand palmed her other breast sensually.

"O-Oh," she stuttered, her hands in my hair gripping me tightly.

I paid careful attention to Britt's breasts until she was whining in my ear, her hips desperately rocking into me to find the relief she craved. I loved to tease, though, so I'd made sure that we were far enough apart for her to not get that friction.

Call me a bitch. It meant _amazing_ sex.

"Saaan! Please!"

Did I mention how much it turned me on to have Brittany beg?

I stood up with Britt still clinging to me and turned us so that she was on her back. I kissed her, enjoying how she feverishly returned it. My left hand trailed down her body and I marvelled at how she was already shaking with anticipation.

God, it was so sexy.

My hand tickled her thighs, first the left and then the right and it was _such_ a turn on to hear her whimpering and trembling for my touch. The power I had over her was addictive. Similarly (this shall forever be denied), when Britt took control, I couldn't resist. With her, I was a total bottom. However, on rare occasions, she'd allow me to take complete control. And I definitely didn't waste those opportunities.

My index finger ran up her covered folds and I hissed at how wet she actually was. My mouth started watering at the mere thought of tasting her again. My finger repeated the action again and again, very gradually picking up the pace. Britt was arching into me, so I gladly took what was on offer to me. She loved it when I nibbled on her boobs. And sometimes, during one of our rougher sex sessions, I'd get a little carried away. Seeing the bite marks on her boobs was totally hot.

"You like that, Britt-Britt?" I asked.

She nodded quickly. Her eyes had been shut the second I'd started touching her.

"Look at me," I commanded quietly.

She opened her gorgeous eyes and I smiled at her, using my thumb to pull her thong to one side. My index and middle fingers dipped into her wetness and I groaned at the sensation. She matched it, but never broke eye contact with me. She couldn't stop her eyes fluttering closed again when my middle finger slid deep inside her.

_Fuck._

She was so warm. And so tight. And, _oh God_ , so very, very wet.

I started moving my finger in and out slowly, determined to prolong this and make her feel the best kind of pleasure that I could give her. She deserved it. She deserved the world. When her moans were shuddering a little more, I pulled out and went back in with three. She moaned her thanks and I moved them in the way I knew drove her crazy. In no time at all, she was a shaking sweaty mess beneath me.

But God help me, she was beautiful.

"S-San, oh…San, p-please," she whispered.

I grinned and requested a kiss, which she readily complied with. It was messy because she was breathing so hard, but I loved feeling her lips against mine when she came. It was like she transferred a little of that pleasure over to me. Well, it felt like that because I sure as hell sensed her orgasm almost like it was my own.

I thrusted deeply and twisted my fingers. It was the trigger she'd been waiting for. Her chest pushed into mine and her walls held my fingers like they were afraid to let them go. She bit my lip as she came and I knew that it may become swollen as a result, but it was totally worth it. I slowly started moving my fingers again to bring her down, and I grinned at the little tremors her body was experiencing for minutes after her orgasm. I kissed her all over her face and body until her breathing was a little more regular.

"Baby, c'mere," she mumbled.

_Baby. Shit. I've missed that._

I climbed onto the bed fully and lay down on top of her, snuggling into her neck.

"Dress," she protested, complete with pout.

I chuckled and sat up, making quick work of my dress. Once I was in my underwear, I resumed my position. She hummed her approval as she wrapped her arms around me.

"I love you," I whispered.

"And I love you."

* * *

She was breaking my heart. Her goodbye was _so_ heartfelt and if I didn't know any better, I'd feel like she was saying goodbye to me too. I watched, blinking away the tears as she stepped up to Sam. She hugged him and told him she loved him, but I remembered her love chart and tried to maintain my composure. She had been the strong one for so long.

It was my turn this time.

"Of course," she murmured, her voice catching on her tears. She looked at me and my heart ached for her. "Then there's Santana."

I gave her a small smile and swallowed the lump in my throat as she gave me a tight hug.

"Oh, man," I breathed. "You don't have to say anything, Brittany."

And she didn't. I knew. She knew. We'd spent hours last night showing each other exactly how we felt. And it had been so amazing. We'd finally promised that we were going to make us work. We'd promised that we would communicate better. We'd promised to be completely honest about everything. Even though the distance was going to be hard, we'd tried being without each other and, well, that hadn't turned out so great. Above all, we'd promised to love each other without fear.

I was happy to step into the background. This was a moment for her glee family.

Because she and I? Well, we had forever.


End file.
